The Armored Heart
by RaewynThorne
Summary: Casavir/FPC romance/character study. Glosses over battles and focuses on character development/interaction. Basic OC with a teensy tweak for the ending, then picks up the fate of Casavir from MotB/SoZ (though these never happen), and continues from there. Rated M for later chapters. This is novel length! *Epilogue Posted; Il Et Finis!*
1. Chapter 1: Beginnings

Neverwinter Nights, Casavir, et. al. belong to Obsidian/Bioware and Co. I'm just borrowing them to play with for a while.

AN: This begins at Old Owl Well but references the beginning of the tale enough to get you situated if you are not familiar with the game. No Casavir this chapter (sorry, I had to do groundwork somewhere), but we will meet him next chapter, promise! The romance will take a while to develop per canon, but I think it needs to be that way. By the time our heroes get together, we will know them, care about them, and believe they really could fall in love.

* * *

Raewyn had found her paladin in a dusty canyon in the distant hills far above Neverwinter. These hills were not her own, and it was difficult to see how her mission here would help her save her home. Nevertheless, the vagaries of her journey had led her into the service of Neverwinter's City Watch, and it was in that service she had been sent here, to the Old Owl Well. She knew little of the area, but her Captain, Brelaina had told her that the the well was a vital source of water for the entire region, and the local orcs and the human villages had struggled for control of it for years. Now Neverwinter had chosen to claim it, sending its finest warriors, the Graycloaks to wrest it from orcish hands once and for all. In the middle of the clash of Graycloaks and orcs stood the people who made their lives here. And of course, Reawyn's own quarry: the hapless emissary from Waterdeep, whose unfortunate choice of travel routes had led to his disappearance.

It was the recovery of the missing emissary that was Raewyn's mission here at the Well. She and her companions, Khelgar, a dwarf of the Ironfist clan, Neeshka, a good-natured tiefling despite her history of theft and mischief, and Elanee, an elven druidess from the Mere which surrounded Raewyn's former home had recently been joined by a diminutive bard who called himself Grobnar Gnomehands. Raewyn was not entirely convinced of his skill, but he'd helped them in a tussle with a pack of dire wolves the day they'd met, so she was prepared to give him a chance. In any case, given what little she'd heard of the orcish incusions into Old Owl Well, she would take any help she could get.

They arrived in the camp the Graycloaks had established around the Well, and were directed to the leader, Callum, one of the Neverwinter Nine, Lord Nasher's personal cadre of knights. After a brief introduction, Callum informed Raewyn that he had no word from the emissary, but was awaiting news from the scout he had sent to locate the missing diplomat. He welcomed them to the camp while they awaited news. They didn't sit idle long, however, for the orcs had rallied another attack, and Raewyn and her companions found themselves fighting side by side with Callum and his men to turn the attack.

"Thanks for your help." Callum looked at her with new respect once the threat had been repelled. "If we had more like you, we'd have a much easier time holding this well."

The scout returned as the last of the fallen orcs were dragged away. The young man quickly reported what he'd seen, and Raewyn and her companions at last got the information they needed to locate the emissary.

"I found no sign of the emissary, Sir, but I did find evidence that a party of travelers were ambushed by orcs, not far from Yaisog's lair."

"Thank you. See my sergeant about getting something to eat. She'll assign you a tent as well." Callum turned to Raewyn again. "It's likely that was your emissary. Sounds like you've got a new assignment. Your job is to escort him to safety; if he's in trouble, you've got to help him. I'd start looking at Yaisog Bonegnasher's lair, northeast of here."

Her longest companion Khelgar, showed surprise at this. "Bonegnashers? They're still around? They're hard to kill."

Callum nodded. "His tribe isn't the biggest, but he's older and more cunning than most. At the least, he may have an idea who attacked the emissary's guards."

"Who is the strongest? Would it be better to start there?" Raewyn asked.

"The Eyegouger tribe is the strongest, led by Logram. He keeps the other tribes in line, including the Bonegnashers. He's the one leading the attacks here. All the orcs around the Well fall under his banner. If we could get lucky and put an arrow through his skull...the orcs would turn on each other in a heartbeat. And give us enough time to strengthen our position here."

"So where can we find Logram?"

The dwarven captain chuckled. "Trust me, if I knew where Logram could be found, I'd hit him myself. Killing him would be the break we've been looking for. For right now, though, focus on Yaisog, see what you can do to find the emissary."

"OK. Anything else I should know before I head out?"

Callum thought for a minute before answering. "Yaisog is old enough to know when to try something other than fighting. Corner him, and you might be able to get him to talk."

Beside Raewyn, Khlegar huffed sourly. "I'd sooner put an axe in an orc, but he's right, the Bonegnashers, as cowardly and weak as they are, have been known to make deals."

"We'll do our best, then."

"Be careful out there. We've held off the orc attacks so far, but they have shown no signs of giving up. I just wish I could make contact with whoever it is that's been distracting the orcs."

Raewyn was surprised. "Someone else is attacking the orcs?"

"Yes," Callum answered gravely. "Someone's out there attacking orc patrols, hitting Logram hard, and it's giving us a chance to build up our defenses."

"So they're on your side, then," she asked him. "Isn't that a good thing?"

Callum looked at her appraisingly before answering. "I've been at this long enough to know that you need to control a battlefield, and this new ally of ours is something I can't control."

"Why can't you make contact with him? Coordinate with him?"

The dwarf commander laughed then. "He's not one for talking. Every time I send someone out to contact him, he and his men move their camp. The orcs have a name for him," he continued, warming to his topic. "_Katalmach_. They say he attacks without warning, and without regard for his enemy's numbers."

Hearing the name Callum spoke, Khelgar raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "That's not a name orcs give lightly, lass. It's a name they give to warriors who lose themselves in battle."

"Lose themselves in battle?" asked Raewyn. "Like a berserker?" She had heard of berserkers, warriors whose battle rage overtook them, making them all but unstoppable on the field, but nearly mindless in their bloodlust. The thought of such a berserker in these hills made her shiver.

"Someone who doesn't play the odds doesn't last too long in my experience" interjected Neeshka. "Well, except for me."

Raewyn laughed at the rogue's comment. Trust Neeshka to find the upside in anything. Beside her, Elanee mused "It is odd that even orc trackers couldn't find him." The druidess paused, considering. "Or that he would risk stirring up so many tribes in this region."

Callum gave a dismissive snort. "Sounds like someone who wants to die, to me. If we weren't here, it'd only be a matter of time before all the tribes in the Well hunted down this... _Katalmach_... and then his crusade would be over. Well, enough talk about him. I have work to do."

"And we must hurry if we are to find the emissary in time. Thank you Callum, for your help. We will report back when we have found the emissary. He is my first obligation, but if we can find Logram, we will deal with him."

"Very good, Raewyn. Best of luck. And if you run into that madman who's attacking the orcs out there, let him know I'd like to have a little chat with him." With a wave, the dwarf returned to his men, and Raewyn turned her company toward the hills.

As they searched, Raewyn often felt she was being watched. She could not be sure if it was Callum's tales working on her imagination, or if the mysterious fighter was out there, watching them. They saw no one but orcs as the hills changed to mountains, however, and no sign of any suicidal berserker. Later, as they fought through the caves of the Bonegnasher tribe, Raewyn gained a new respect for whomever this lone warrior might be, for the orcs proved challenging opponents. When at last they had found and defeated the orc Chieftain, Yaisog, he was quick to negotiate, as Callum had predicted.

He confirmed that it was Logram who had orchestrated the abduction of the emissary, but the old chief did no know why or where he was being held. Then Raewyn asked him about the renegade warrior. He spoke of the mysterious harrier of the hills in much the same way that Callum had.

"Ah, yes. '_Katalmach_,' the orc-slayer who has plagued us for almost a season." He shook his head, and Raewyn could see that even the beaten chief had respect for this _Katalmach_. "He strikes swiftly, then disappears into the mountains. Many of our warriors have fallen to his sword. It is said no blade can strike him, and he embraces battle like one who wishes to die."

"But who is he?" Raewyn pressed.

"I know not, but if it were not for this _Katalmach_, the humans never would have been able to take our well. He is a curse upon our tribes." In that moment, the Chief sounded less like an enemy, and more like a tired old man with too much responsibility, and Raewyn chose to let him leave. But she was more curious than ever about who this vigilante might be. Why would a warrior of his obvious skill walk such a self-destructive path?

An answer to that question had to wait a little yet, for Yaigog's lair had one more surprise for them. After the chieftain had left, they encountered a man claiming to be the emissary. Something about him struck her as odd, and Raewyn had her doubts, but she chose to let him go. When Neeshka objected, Raewyn hushed her until the man had left, then explained "I don't think he is the emissary either, but if he is an impostor, interrupting his agenda now may put the real emissary at risk. And I'd prefer to let his plans play out for the present. Hopefully, we can get more information about who is behind this. The orcs may have grabbed the real emissary, but the impostor certainly isn't an orc. That means there's someone else behind all this, and I want to know who."

"Ye're right, lass," mused Khelgar beside her. "Murder and mayhem are the orc way. But kidnapping? No orc would dream up a plot like that. Someone else is manipulating the orcs, and that's not an easy thing to do."

"So if we let the impostor go, he might lead us to whoever IS behind it! You're almost as sneaky as me, boss!" said the tiefling rogue, impressed.

Raewyn answered her with a smile, and they began the trek back to the sunshine.


	2. Chapter 2: The Katalmach

When they left the cave, they encountered a small band of orcs. As they finished off that group, they spied another, far larger, descending upon a ragged band of human fighters, led by a man with coal black hair and battered plate armor. Though their own numbers and those under the foreign commander together did not half equal the orcs' numbers, they ran to help, Khelgar yelling about reclaiming 'their orcs' form the foreign fighters.

Together they triumphed over the much larger troop. As both groups assessed their wounds and gathered what resources they could from their fallen opponents, Raewyn and her company, and other leader with his, both spattered with the blood of orcs, had sized each other up uncertainly.

The leader of the other group approached her. "I'm curious. Why have you ventured into the mountains? Surely you understood the risk in coming here."

At the sound of the deep voice, she turned her full attention to him, noticing as she did so that he was not only tall, but ruggedly handsome. He carried himself with an strong, easy grace, and his piercing blue eyes held a keen intelligence lurking beneath the shadows. "What do you mean?"

"The Sword Mountains are a dangerous place. More now than ever, with the orc tribes gathered behind Logram's banner." He spoke as though she should have known this, and she bristled a bit.

"No offense, but I would have had things under control."

A flash of humor sparked in his eyes. "So I noticed. I thank you then for allowing us to take part in the battle."

His amusement caught her off guard. "Who are you?"

He nodded to her formally. "I am Casavir, and my men and I have been hunting this group of orcs for days."

This was the _Katalmach_? This sober man with the complex gaze and regal bearing? "You're the one that's been harassing the orcs?"

He was not what she had expected, this unknown hunter who had single-handedly humbled the orcs of Old Owl Well. From Callum's accounts, and Yaisog's, she had expected a semi-crazed wild-man, half genius, half fighter, a sort of mad vigilante.

Instead she found a man who appeared as heavily armored within as without, a proud fighter who seemed to hide secret sins and painful regrets behind an impassive mask of righteousness. It made him remote and almost condescending, but he was certainly effective. She was no expert, but he was one of the best fighters she had ever seen. In fact, she had been unwillingly impressed with him, and with the quiet determination which seemed to drive him.

"Yes. My men and I have been hunting the orcs for some time now. Are you here for the same reason?"

She deflected the question, not yet sure she was ready to confide in him, impressive or not. "The Graycloaks have been trying to make contact with you."

"I am aware of that. Be assured that my people and I fight against the orcs, if not on Neverwinter's behalf." He seemed to consider for a moment. "My scouts have reported on your progress through the Sword Mountains. You have survived much. Why are you here?"

So her instincts had been correct; this Casavir and his men had been watching her. He sounded almost impressed, and for a moment, Raewyn felt a flush of pride that a warrior of his obvious experience thought well of her and her companions. She dismissed the fanciful thought. She rather disliked being watched unawares, even though she sensed the compliment was genuine. She was not quite certain what to make of him.

"How do I know I can trust you?"

He quirked an elegant eyebrow at her, his amusement returning. "I sided with you against the orcs, and am now talking with you, despite your suspicions."

At that she yielded, and smiled. "Forgive my caution. And I am grateful for your assistance. We're searching for the orc chieftain, Logram Eyegouger."

He accepted this thoughtfully. "Then we share the same goal." he said. "His lair is difficult to find, and the approach is no doubt well-defended. Killing Logram would certainly throw the orcs into disarray. However, I'm guessing that you have another purpose for being here as well." He made the statement a question.

"Why would you say that?" She didn't intend to deny it, but she was curious how he had read her so easily.

"Well, anyone looking to slay the orc tribe chieftain would normally bring along a larger force."

So he was as perceptive as he appeared. She studied him for a long moment, considering. Unless she missed her guess, he was a paladin, which was truly unexpected. He would be a formidable ally. Still, she didn't know what to make of his recklessness. It was certainly not in evidence now, but even the orcs had spoken of it, and she weighed his assistance against the possible problems a suicidal fighter with a death wish could bring her company.

He stood patiently, knowing he was being evaluated. He was evaluating the woman before him as well. Raewyn and her band simply made no sense to him. She herself was clearly an able fighter, if a bit unpredictable. But her companions? A dwarf with a lust for battle and the bad manners to create one where none existed, an elven druid clearly as comfortable away from her trees as a fish out of water, and a tiefling whom he suspected might slit his purse if not his throat for a handful of coin. Much of his sense of humor having long been buried in blood and regret, what was he to make of such a group?

So he allowed her to study him and focused his appraisal on her, choosing to let her bizarre companions be a problem for another day. She presented a sufficient puzzle on her own. She was lovely, far more confident than her years would suggest, and she clearly evinced considerable loyalty, even from such a ragtag crew. Nevertheless, he could neither deny nor explain their effectiveness with the troop of orcs they had destroyed together, and he decided he was willing to offer his assistance. Assuming, of course, she wanted it.

As it happened, she did, since Raewyn decided to trust him. "I'm looking for a missing Waterdeep emissary."

Casavir's attention flew from his appraisal of Raewyn back to the situation at hand. "Missing? The orcs have grown bold then, if they now interfere directly." He paused to think, then continued quietly. "This explains many things. Recent orc movements now make much more sense to me."

Clearly he was a tactician as well. "What do you mean?" she reminded him of her presence.

He turned his attention back to her. "My men and I came across the remains of an orc raid on a heavily-armed column of troops. I was struck by the ferocity of the slaughter - and that the orcs would dare strike at a well-armed and disciplined fighting force."

"That must have been the escort for the emissary."

He nodded his agreement. "I believe you are correct, considering what we encountered next. We caught up with the orc force and charged. Normally, we would have routed them. With this group, however, they reacted to us with military precision. While their rearguard delayed us, the rest continued to move quickly in an organized fashion... all clustered around a single point. They may have been guarding your emissary."

She knew the answer, but had to be sure. "Did your forces pursue them?"

"We could not afford more losses." Raewyn nodded, understanding his choice. "Instead, I led a small group and followed the retreating orcs as best we could. At first, I thought we had lost them... but then one of our scouts found the hidden trail to their cave." His tone of regret at not being able to intervene turned to reflect a hint of pride in his scout's abilities.

"So where's the lair?"

Casavir refrained from smiling at her eagerness, even as he admired her courage. "If you intend to enter the stronghold of Logram, it is to the north. I can lead the way."

She barely hesitated before accepting. "I am happy to accept your help reaching the lair, and your sword as well, if you are willing."

"And you shall have it. Logram's death will be a serious blow to the orcs."

As they had spoken, a pretty blond woman had walked up to join them. As Casavir finished, she spoke. "We have lost some men, but I will assemble who I can and join you on the assault."

Casavir answered quickly "No, Katriona. We have already lost too many, and a massed attack on Logram will only cost us more. I will be going on alone."

Katriona looked hurt, and her voice betrayed strong emotion. Raewyn looked down, suddenly uncomfortable witnessing the intimate exchange. "Casavir… sir... we kept you from this once. I think it's best if…"

Raewyn had but a moment to consider what it was she and the others had kept Casavir from before he spoke. He too seemed uncomfortable with Katriona's show of emotion, and a little exasperated by her argument.

"Please, it is important that you do as I ask. Take the survivors, and fall back to the Graycloaks' camp. Do what you can to help them and keep the pressure on the orcs."

His lieutenant persisted. "But I've seen that trail. If you go up there, you will be nothing more than easy targets. Gods know what guards or defenses they have...you'll be killed." she paused, trying to decide what to say. "Look… Casavir... let me go with you. There is no need to keep doing this alone; let us help you." With a startling burst of insight, Raewyn realized that this Katriona loved the paladin.

"A smaller group will move quicker and attract less attention. The trail to Logram's lair is narrow; more swords will not aid us there. If we cannot defeat Logram, then he will come after the Graycloaks in full force, and they must be warned."

"So after all this time avoiding the Neverwinter forces, now you want me to stride right into their camp?"

"You have your orders, Katriona. We'll meet you back at the Graycloaks camp after we have dealt with Logram." It was clear he would entertain no more debate. And really, Raewyn thought, he was right. Katriona seemed to realize the decision was made, and relented.

"Very well. Good luck, sir." The formality came a bit too late, Raewyn mused, as the blonde left to gather the rest of Casavir's men and moved out. When Katriona was gone, she faced the warrior beside her.

"This will require that I take a place at your side, however," he said quietly, seeming relieved at Katriona's departure. Something in the timbre of his voice made her shiver a little. "...if your group will have me?"

Raewyn glanced over to her companions, considering. "I think it will be fine, but thank you for thinking of them. Let me have a moment?" He nodded to her, and went to gather his own gear.

As she drew near to her companions, Neeshka piped up first, as always. "Are you sure you want him traveling with us? Holy warriors only lead to trouble. Plus, his aura makes my skin itch." Raewyn grinned, but before she could answer, Khelgar chimed in.

"He'd be a good one to have in a fight. A little high on his horse, though, from the looks of it." Raewyn's grin turned to a chuckle at both of them, and looked the same question to to the others. Grobnar only nodded with a slightly vacant grin, and the elf answered cautiously.

"We could use his help. There's greater beasts than orcs in these mountains, and we may need every blade we can get if we cross paths with them."

"I hope you will manage, Neeshka, and I am sorry for your...itch." She smiled at her friend. "But I think Khelgar and Elanee are correct; we need his help, and I am grateful he has offered it. For now, let us work together."

She introduced her companions to the paladin, and as it was already growing dark, they made camp for the night. "I fear we must make haste at first light, lest the emissary suffer for our delay."

_Casavir was dreaming, the same dream he'd dreamt over and over, since his first flight from Neverwinter. His feet made no sound on the thick carpeting lining the halls of the Moonstone Mask. The familiar walls with their brocades and tapestries now seemed sinister, the leaping shadows of the torchlight making shapes writhe upon the walls. The looming shapes couldn't subdue the spring in his steps, however. He was here to see his love. He looked at the bundle of flowers he carried; Carenthan lilies, her favorite. She didn't know he was coming. He wanted to surprise her with the lilies, and if he could summon up the courage, he intended to ask her to be his betrothed. _

_The dreamer fought against his dream self, pleading with him to stop, to leave. His dream self reached the end of the hall, and his hand reached for the doorknob. The dreamer's will screams for him not to open the door, for he knows what his dream self will find. Beyond that door lies only betrayal. He's dreamt this dream before, a hundred times, and he fears his heart cannot take the pain yet again. _

_As he stepped into the room, he saw Ophala perched on the edge of the ornate desk, her skirt up around her hips, locked in a passionate embrace with a man whose face Casavir could not see. He stepped into the room, and both its occupants looked up at him in shock. _

_"Casavir! What are you doing here?" Ophala asked him. _

_"Get away from her, you filthy dog!" Casavir bellowed the moment he saw the other man's face. It was Fenton Aldair, a young noble known for his debauchery. _

_"So this is your new plaything?" cackled the other man. "I do hope he won't be tiresome."_

_Ophala giggled. "Let's see, Fenton my darling. Casavir, pet, why are you here?"_

_Casavir's fist clenched, the lilies he'd been carrying crushed to scraps, and pain arcing through his chest like a blade._

_"My lady, I….I came to ask your hand in betrothal. I...I love you."_

_"Oh, how quaint." sneered Aldair. "You should never have trifled with a paladin, my pretty, they are so frightfully dull."_

_Ophala laughed again. "Now, now, love. he did show promise." Still giggling, she turning back to Casavir. "Darling, you didn't really think I'd marry you! You can't have been that naive, can you, Casavir? How foolish you are, Casavir!"_

_Casavir only stared at her, his features drawn with pain, unable to speak._

_His silence drew only laughter from the pair. He covered his ears, begging them to stop, but they only laughed louder, until the sound echoed, and the room began to distort, the shadows from the hall cavorting around him, making the walls seem to twist and bend. He fell to his knees as the faces of his tormentors too began to distort, their laughing faces becoming demonic and their laughter turning to shrieks….._

He awoke with a start to realize the shrieks were only the calls of a rock hawk, hunting in the mountain night. He rose from his blanket and sat at the far edge of the campsite. He would sleep no more this night, but perhaps he could find some rest in meditation. As he tried to relax into his prayers, he was unaware that Raewyn had seen him wake, had been about to rouse him from his nightmare, and now watched him as he settled, worry etched upon her brow.


	3. Chapter 3: Logram's Lair

They had thrown in together then, he welcoming the extra swords (or spells) in his crusade—for that is what it was, though he'd not have admitted it to himself then, or for a long time after—and she likewise grateful for a bit of muscle to put between the seemingly unending waves of orcs these hills seemed to hold and her companions. Neither considered anything beyond the necessity to protect Old Owl Well and recover the emissary.

Over the long march to the mouth of Logram's lair, she and the paladin had the chance to talk. She was deeply curious about him, and how he had ended up here. He was nothing at all like his title, _Katalmach _implied, and the contradiction fascinated her.

"Casavir?"

"Yes? Is there something you wish of me?"

"I'm curious; if you don't mind, that is. I don't mean to pry."

He nodded, curious to see what she would want to know. "I do not mind."

"You said you knew Callum, didn't you?"

"Yes, I know Callum, we were once friends. He is one of the Nine, and he serves Neverwinter loyally and well."

"Were once friends? You are not friends anymore?"

"Callum serves Neverwinter. And friendship cannot always survive such trials." She looked at him, unsure what he meant. "There are few within Neverwinter who still consider me a friend, and even then, their service to Neverwinter comes first."

'There is one outside Neverwinter who would like to call you friend, if you will let me,' she told him silently, with a conviction that rather surprised her. She found she rather liked the strange paladin. She refrained, however, from voicing the thought. Instead she asked "What happened to you in Neverwinter? Didn't you serve there as well?"

Casavir hesitated, weighing how much to tell her. The shadows of his past lay heavy on him, and while he longed to share the burden, he found it difficult to reveal his secrets, even to this remarkable woman.

She waited patiently, sensing he was a private person, and not wishing to push him. Eventually he spoke. "I...betrayed my oath to my order as a paladin of Tyr. And to Neverwinter. I had...doubts about my service to Nasher, to the city itself."

Raewyn laughed, and he looked at her in surprise. "Now that I understand. I never intended to swear service to anyone, it sort of happened on the way from here to there. I mean, I suppose I do some good at times, but I'm not sure what it has to do with what I am trying to accomplish, and sometimes it seems to be so removed from day to day reality…." she trailed off. "But I'll tell you my tale later. For now, it's still your turn, if that's alright?" At his nod she asked "So you left Neverwinter, then?"

He nodded. "It was an impulsive decision, and not the correct one. There was no place in Neverwinter for me any longer. And the farther I traveled from Neverwinter's walls, the more I saw what harm was befalling people, such as those here at the Well."

"I don't know very much about this area, I am afraid. What do you mean?"

"Many who live in the shadow of Old Owl Well have suffered greatly from orc attacks over the years. Families have been put to the sword, homes burned, and traveling merchants have been slaughtered along the High Road. The orcs need to be driven back." His voice grew hard as he spoke, and she understood his feelings. It was the same reason she had helped the refugees at Fort Locke, and gone looking for two lost children at Highcliff.

"I get it," she said. "Or at least I think I do. There are just some things that are worth doing because they are the right thing, because someone needs to do them. I left my home to save it, but along the way I've found myself doing a lot of other things. They didn't help my village, or help me find answers, but…. Take the Watch, for one. I didn't set out to become a Watchman. But the only way to get the answers I need was to find a way into part of the city that was closed off. And the only way to do that was by working with the Watch. Well, that or team up with one of the dockside low-lifes, but I'm not about to become a cutthroat, no matter what the cause. So I've spent the last months patrolling the docks and arresting smugglers. It's not what I was and still am trying to do, but real good comes of it. At least, I hope it does." She looked over at her companion to find him watching her, a strange look on his face. "I'm sorry, I am just babbling."

"Not at all," he replied slowly. "I have long struggled with similar questions, but found that here such matters seemed to be...simpler. I find your perspective….refreshing. I thank you for sharing this with me."

Raewyn looked away, uncomfortable. Certainly he was being polite, but she was surprised at how much his praise pleased her. After a moment, she looked back at him.

"These people are fortunate to have you, Casavir." He looked at her, raising an eyebrow. He did not imagine anyone, much less someone wearing a Watch cloak, would view his actions positively. She didn't press the matter, but continued. "Anyway, where were you? Oh, I think you were saying that you came here with your men to drive back the orcs?"

"No, I did not come with them. Those are men and women who live in Old Owl Well, who were willing to lend me their swords. They have good hearts. Living there has made them tough, capable, and their knowledge of the mountain paths have made them invaluable as scouts."

Raewyn stopped and faced him. "Are you telling me that you came here alone, and these men joined you voluntarily, let you lead them in protecting their homes?"

"Yes." There was no pride or boasting in his affirmation. "I thought perhaps by traveling here, my sword could make a difference, give the people living here some hope if Neverwinter itself could not protect them. I do not have faith in a city or a nation, but the people within it. The people of Old Owl Well, they know the truth of this."

She marveled at the man before her. He had simply set out to find a place where people were getting hurt, set himself to stem the tide. People just naturally gathered around him, and it was easy to see why. She shook her head, thinking about what would make a man try to stand alone against the tribes of mountain orcs.

"Yes, Casavir, they are very lucky to have you. And so am I." she said sincerely, then realized what she'd said. "I mean, for as long as we're doing this together. I mean, I appreciate your help." She was stumbling over her words. Flushing in embarrassment, she turned and stepped ahead of him, muttering something about checking in with Elanee, leaving Casavir to his thoughts.

The paladin watched as she hurried ahead and fell in beside the druidess and the tiefling. Within moments they were talking, laughing, gesturing to each other. He had still not quite gotten used to the way her group interacted. They joked, teased, complained, and squabbled. They all looked to Raewyn, but they talked to each other. His years at Old Owl Well had been grim, tense, nearly silent. He was tempted to attribute the difference to the gravity of the fight here, but he knew that was not the reason. Raewyn had not yet told him how she had embarked on the journey that had brought her here, but he sensed it was no less urgent, no less real than the defense of home and kin that brought his men together. He didn't quite understand how, but he knew that the difference was her.

They marched on into twilight before Casavir announced they had reached a suitable campsite. "This place is easily defensible, commands a a view of the trail, and offers some shelter from the winds. I am sure you have discovered these mountains grow cold at night."

"Defensible!" Neeshka moaned, flopping down onto her pack. "If Logram comes by, I'll welcome him myself, as long as he's got something to eat!"

Casavir sent a raised eyebrow her direction, then continued "I will take first watch. We can risk a fire, but it must be a small one."

"Thank you, Casavir," said Raewyn. "I will take second watch. Khelgar, will you take third?"

"Aye lass, just let me get a bit of shuteye first and I'll…." he was asleep before he finished. They shared out what rations they had, supplemented by some wild berries Casavir had found along the trail, before settling in for the night.

Raewyn lay down near the fire, knowing she needed to rest a while if she was to take watch, but sleep eluded her. Instead she lay looking into the night. Almost without her knowledge, her gaze found Casavir, sitting a little distance away from the sleeping companions. He was as still as the rocks of the mountains, but even from this distance, she could perceive his watchfulness. She studied him in earnest, taking in the details of his posture, his face. He carried himself so sternly it was easy to overlook the signs of his softer side. But as she looked at him now, with moonlight bathing one side of his face, and firelight the other, he seemed a study in contrasts. She found herself considering him that way, fire on one side, silvery cool on the other. His fury in battle surely belonged to his fire side, and his detachment and reserve to his colder side. The lines between his brows suggested that pain and worry had harried him, but those around his eyes spoke of frequent laughter. His mouth, when not drawn tight in determination, was wide and expressive, and she found herself wondering if his lips were as soft as they looked. She imagined that inside him lay tremendous passion, on which his dispassionate paladin side kept tight rein.

With a shake of her head, Raewyn chided herself for her whimsy. They would defeat the orc Chieftain, and then she would return to Neverwinter. Casavir was merely a temporary ally.

She wondered briefly if he was aware of her scrutiny, but if he was, he gave no sign of it. Deciding she had had enough of the futility of seeking sleep, she rose to relieve the paladin of his watch.

"You relieve me early, my lady. Should you not be resting?"

"Should be, perhaps, but sleep and I are rarely on good terms." She said it lightly, but the paladin heard a trace of bitterness.

"What troubles your rest, then?" he rumbled quietly, surprised to find himself so concerned. "If you wish to speak of it, of course." he added hastily.

She settled on the rock beside him and considered. "I don't know why I'm here, Casavir. I don't know what I'm doing. A few months ago, my biggest concern was winning the Harvest Faire contests, which of the village lads would ask me to the Midwinter dance, and whether my latest lesson would satisfy my foster father. And now, I have a band of followers, a Watch commission to locate a missing politician, a bunch of crazed lizard-creatures trying to kill me, and I'm sitting halfway up a mountain with a paladin getting ready to storm the stronghold of an orcish tribe." Her voice had grown more tense as she had spoken, and she realized she sounded almost crazed herself.

She laughed nervously, then took a deep breath and continued. "Everything has just happened so fast, and I just don't feel like I belong in this. And I don't even know what 'this' is."

"How did you come to embark on your...journey?" asked Casavir.

They shared the night's watch in the shadow of the mountains, and she told him.

"I grew up in West Harbor, a tiny village on the edge of the Mere of Dead men. We were attacked suddenly, out of nowhere. Hundreds of grey dwarves and these awful green things, githyanki, Elanee called them, just appeared out of the Mere. We lost a lot of people, dozens more were injured. We had no idea why they attacked us, or what they wanted. My father, Daeghun—well, he's really my foster-father—suspected that the attack was meant to retrieve an old silver metal shard."

"A shard?"

"Yes. It's just a hunk of metal, but I get this really odd feeling from it, like it's soaked in some kind of magic." She shook her head. "I don't know. Even Daeghun doesn't know what it is, only that it was one of two that was found in West Harbor after a battle that happened there when I was a baby. It was around the time my mother died, I think. Anyway, that's why he sent me to Neverwinter, to try and find out what it is, or why someone would want it. My uncle in Neverwinter had the other shard."

She stopped, thinking about all she'd been through. "The githyanki have been pursuing me ever since. And everywhere I go I keep running into undead, ghosts rising, Shadow Priests…. I keep thinking they're connected, but I have no idea why. Now, the only way I can get to see the man I need to ask about the shard is by helping the Watch. So here I am." She smiled at him. "One lone swamp rat, out in the big wide world…."

The paladin twitched his lips, his brow arching in amusement, but his voice held sincerity. "I think you are much more than a swamp rat, my lady."

The next day brought them at last to Logram's lair. Casavir had been correct in his prediction that the entrance would be well guarded. The two orcs on guard had fallen quickly to the hail of arrows from Neeshka and Elanee's bows. The real challenge had been the massive blade spider crouching between them. A blast of freezing cold from Elanee fouled its joints with ice, slowing its advance and allowing Casavir, Raewyn and Khelgar to put their powerful blows to work. Soon the monster was nothing more than a battered pile of metal scraps.

They met several waves of resistance as they moved further in, including a number of orcish shamen who showered them with spells. Raewyn was grateful for the assistance of both Casavir's aura and Grobnar's song-spells. Nevertheless, the band made good progress into the Eyegouger stronghold.

They had just cleared a large set of connecting rooms grouped around a central corridor, when they spied a doorway off the main passage. Raewyn didn't sense any more hostile presences within, so she urged the group forward. "In here, let's see if we can get a moment to catch our breath." said Raewyn, approaching the door carefully.

She opened the door, and she and Casavir entered first, ready to provide cover for the others. Adrenaline surged through her as she saw at least a dozen orcs in the room. In the next breath, however, confusion replaced her battle urge. The orcs remained where they were, many sitting against the walls, some lying sprawled on the floor. A closer look revealed what the gloom had hidden.

Casavir voiced what Raewyn had just realized. "These orcs... I recognize some of them from the battles we had. We allowed many of them to flee once they had surrendered the field." He turned to Raewyn. "These orcs are in no shape to fight... they have seen too much of battle already."

Raewyn was about to agree when Elanee spoke. "The ground here is thick with their blood... and their pain."

Khelgar added a harsh exclamation. "Bah. These orcs can barely stand. Fighting them like this...I don't think the lot of them will survive the night."

Casavir looked at Raewyn, wondering what she would choose to do. He recalled the vigorous opposition he had faced when he had chosen to let this group leave. Katriona had been adamant that regardless of the severity of their injuries, they would only come back and attack them again.

"I know this, Katriona," he had told her, "and when that day comes, we will face them across the field of battle. But there is no honor, no decency in cutting them down now. I will not slaughter helpless beings!" It had become an unhealed wound in the friendship between Casavir and his sergeant. He suddenly found he desperately hoped Raewyn would choose mercy, though he couldn't have said why her choice should have such weight for him.

Raewyn met his eyes and spoke without hesitation. "We will not kill these orcs. Let nature take them, and let it take them in peace. Let us just continue on."

"I think that would be the most merciful course of action." the paladin's voice showed admiration with only a touch of surprise.

Raewyn paused as they turned to leave. "Wait, just a moment. Elanee, do you still have a sleep spell handy?"

"Yes, why?"

"Can you cast it so that it effects all of the orcs here in this room?"

She nodded, understanding what Raewyn intended. She raised her arms, closed her eyes, and chanted softly in elvish. A faint silvery glow emanated from her hands and floated over the suffering orcs. One by one they relaxed into sleep. Elanee opened her eyes, a little drained, and turned to follow the others out.

"Rest well, warriors." Raewyn murmured softly as they turned to leave. No one heard her except the paladin, whose eyes lingered on her thoughtfully.

At long last they battled their way into the heart of Logram's lair, and came before the powerful orc chieftain himself. His men had allowed them to enter unmolested, and now they stood before a crude throne hewn of the mountain rock. On it reclined the largest orc Raewyn had seen. His grey-green hide was crisscrossed with scars, his teeth curled over his lip like a boar's tushes, and his matted black mane was threaded with bones and teeth; from what creatures, Raewyn didn't really want to know.

Lorgam rose with a growl, slinging a massive club to his shoulder as if it were a walking stick. "Neverwinter dares not send its grey whelps to face me in true battle. Instead, they send assassins."

Casavir stepped forward, his face thunderous. "We are not assassins, Logram. You sent the tribes against the people of Neverwinter who dared to settle here...so we are here to stop you."

"Ah, so this is the _Katalmach_," Logram growled, "the one who has been attacking us, giving the grey whelps time to rest between each assault. Why my men fear to face you in battle is hard to see."

Raewyn glanced quickly at Casavir then back at Logram. Hard to see why men feared to face him? She sent the paladin beside her an incredulously raised eyebrow as if to say 'Who knew orcs were blind as well as ugly?'

She may have imagined the twitch at the corner of his mouth, because his voice when he replied was cold. "The question is, do _you_ fear to face me in battle? For we _will_ stop you."

Logram gave a harsh barking laugh. "And how will you do that if you're dead!"

Raewyn stepped forward to face the orc chieftain, though he towered over her. "You will not find us so easy to kill. This is not necessary. I came for you, Logram. No one else needs to get hurt."

"You would face me alone? You are no orc, and you will not leave here alive." Logram turned and beckoned to someone in the shadows. "Know that Yaisog has betrayed you. The coward warned me of you and has helped me prepare."

"No good deed goes unpunished…" muttered Raewyn to herself.

Logram turned to the older orc. "You dishonored yourself once, Yaisog. Now, fight by my side and regain what you've lost." He turned back to the companions, addressing Casavir directly. "You die here now, _Katalmach_, you and this one from Neverwinter who leads you."

Raewyn rolled her eyes and muttered to Casavir "Why do they always have to hold forth? Why can't they just attack and get it over with?" Again Casavir's lips twitched so slightly she might have imagined it, and behind her Neeshka giggled quietly. As tired as she was, and despite the very real threat Logram and his tribe posed, Raewyn felt a surge of gratitude for her companions. The orcs charged, and with a swift grin at Casavir, she leapt to meet the assault.

They defeated Logram and his henchmen with only minor injuries. However, a search of the area had still not revealed the true emissary, though it did turn up a passageway leading down to another, deeper section of tunnels.

They group decided to rest up and salvage what useful items they could find from the orc chieftain's lair before attempting the descent.

"Well," Neeshka said, "there could be a lot of stuff worth a lot of gold that the orcs were carrying. Please?"

Laughing, Raewyn told her to go ahead, and went to explore the adjacent storerooms. As she was looking through the piles of weapons and gear, she noticed something odd. "Khelgar, Casavir?" Raewyn called over the two of her companions she thought might be able to affirm her suspicions. They approached, and she gestured to the weapons piled haphazardly around the storeroom. "Do these look like orc-made weapons to you?"

Both men knelt to inspect the weapons she indicated. Casavir looked around and made a quick estimate of the number of weapons in the room. "Orcs do not usually possess much foresight. But I count over a hundred weapons in this room alone, and none of those we faced have been unarmed. As we have made our way here, I noticed other storerooms as well. This cache of weapons seems to indicate that someone else has been supplying the orcs with arms, and they are planning for a greater battle."

Khelgar picked up a sword, examining it more closely, looking for a maker's stamp or other identifying marks. "These blades didn't come from orcish hammers. I can't say for sure, lass, but I think these blades may be of Luskan making, though how they got here I can't imagine."

Casavir nodded his agreement. "I cannot say if the hand in this is Luskan, but it is likely that the same party that organized the kidnapping of the emissary is also supplying the orcs."

"I wonder…"mused Raewyn. At Casavir's raised eyebrow, she clarified. "Well, before I left Neverwinter, we intercepted a shipment of weapons smuggled in by the dockside gangs. I didn't ever discover the origins of that shipment, but I was just wondering if there was a connection. After all, two shipments of weapons, sent to assist those working against Neverwinter...seems too similar to be coincidence."

"I agree, my lady. We should keep our eyes open for anything that may shed more light on this."

They rejoined the others, gathered their gear and headed deeper into the labyrinthine cave. The passage led downward steeply, and the group was forced to go slowly over the treacherous ground.

After twenty yards or so, the passage opened into a large chamber. Despite the relief of open space after the precarious descent, the companions entered the chamber with horror. The walls of the large room were lined with bodies, not laid out but seemingly just dumped here.

"These corpses…" Casavir's voice reflected his anguish. "I know these men and women, I served with them…"

Elanee looked around with horror almost equal to Casavir's. "We should be careful. Something is wrong here...the feeling in the ground—and from these bodies, it's like...a shadow, like death."

"'Like death,' she says. That we can see." croaked Khelgar, though his own voice was far from its usual steady gruffness.

Raewyn nodded. The very air in the room made her skin crawl. It wasn't just the bodies, or even the haphazard way they were thrown here. "I sense it, too. These bodies deserve funeral rites, not to rot in a cave like this."

Casavir moved around the room, kneeling to check each of the fallen briefly. "Some of these soldiers fell in battle against the orcs, but their bodies were never found. I do not know how they ended up here." She could almost see the distress coming off of him in waves. She placed her hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her, and she saw the crystal flash of tears in his eyes. "These were my men, my lady….."

She knelt beside him. "Casavir, you aren't responsible for this."

Even the irrepressible Neeshka looked more nervous than Raewyn ever remembered seeing her. "I don't know what this cave is, but maybe we should back away and move on."

Raewyn couldn't agree more, but felt they couldn't leave just yet. "Yes, I want to leave, too, but...these men and women deserve more than to be abandoned here." She put her hand on Casavir's arm, looking up at him in sympathy. "I have no intention of leaving this place until we find out who has done this."

The paladin had recovered his composure, and covered her hand with his. "They deserve that much, at least. I thank you for showing respect for those I stood with."

"This is strange…"offered Elanee. The others shifted their attention to her. "Orc tribes of the Well do not put their dead side by side with human bodies. This does look like some sort of burial chamber, though. All the bodies arranged like that - orcs and humans." she looked up at her companions. "Maybe we should take a look around, see what we can find."

"I agree." Raewyn said, steeling herself against the thought of entering this place further when all she wanted to do was flee. "No one deserves to be piled here like this. We owe it to them to continue on."

Casavir nodded his gratitude, and she studied him a moment. She knew that he had come alone to Old Owl Well, and though he had not said so, she was certain he had intended just the sort of solitary self-destruction his pseudonym, _Katalmach_, implied. But she also knew he held the safety of his men dear; he had shown the same concern for their safety even in the brief time he had fought beside them. For all his steadfast character, and his prowess in battle, he was not comfortable leading men, she realized. While he would sacrifice himself without thought, he was loathe to spend the lives of others. She knew then that regardless of his reputed recklessness, he would never pose a risk to her or her companions.

They moved on then, after Casavir had spoken a blessing over the fallen. He was troubled by the fate of his men. He knew that their remains were but flesh, but the dishonor plagued him nevertheless. He looked at Raewyn as they moved down the corridor. He had always guarded the lives of his men as best he could, but the burden of their safety never rested easily on his shoulders. He knew that the loss of some was the reality of battle. He was not sure Raewyn knew this, however. She seemed determined to lose no one. Once he would have dismissed this as naiveté on her part, but now he was not so sure. Even in the course of a few days he had seen how she held together this odd group, encouraging the best in each of them. He knew she would never let any of them be lost, and somehow, against all his experience, he believed in her ability to do so.

They advanced through a hellish maze of chambers and passages, red-hot pits of lava spewing searing heat and foul gasses as they passed. It was in one of the cooler, darker passages that they found the grisly reason for the bodies that they had seen.

This chamber, smaller than the rest, was a workroom of sorts, though instead of scrolls or potions, the tables were littered with bodies, or parts of them at least. Behind her she heard Neeshka being violently ill in the passage from which they'd come, and wished she could do the same. Casavir's horror-filled voice rang out behind her.

"This place... someone is using the dead for experimentation... defiling their bodies instead of allowing them to rest."

They were all absorbed by the carnage and their own revulsion, and failed to hear the approach of three dark figures.

"Ah, I thought I felt a stir within my domain…" the mocking voice of a Shadow Priest flanked by his acolytes, oozed through the room. "like a bright, shining light, trying to cast away shadow."

Casavir whirled on the priest, his fury eclipsing his anguish. "These people... what have you done to them? You deny them their rest, deny them their peace!"

Raewyn moved to stand beside him, wordlessly showing her support. The priest, however, merely laughed contemptuously. "Peace? Come now... surely you recall how they died, paladin." He smiled ingratiatingly, and Raewyn glanced at Casavir, seeing the muscles in his jaw twitching. The priest continued his mocking. "These mountains have been covered in blood since your arrival. After all, you led these dead into one glorious charge after another…_Katalmach._" Casavir flinched. "I think what I have done is mercy in comparison."

Casavir snarled. "I do not know what power you worship... but I can sense the evil thick upon you. It has touched you, and it will soon run deeper than you know."

Raewyn joined him. "We will not allow this defilement to continue."

Casavir stood tall beside her, and approval filled his voice. "Our leader speaks true; you face us both."

The Shadow Priest and his minions did face them, but not for long.

"More Shadow Priests." Raewyn remarked. "Do you think he was…" she hesitated, "making more undead?"

Disgust twisted Casavir's handsome features. "It is likely. You said the Shadow Priest near Fort Locke spoke of raising an army?"

"Yes, but I thought he meant recruiting...you think someone means to raise an army of the dead?" Horror filled her face. He nodded grimly, and they fell silent, moving on. They had yet to find the emissary, and the presence of the Shadow Priests and his abominations did not bode well for his being rescued unharmed.

With that last battle over, however, the emissary—the real one this time—was found quickly, and sent on his way to meet Callum at the Well. Raewyn looked at her companions.

"I'm tired and bruised, and I know you are too. But shall we forgo our rest until we can see the sky? I would not linger here a moment longer than we must."

"I agree; I long for the sight of nature's heaven, and I think we will heal the stronger for it." said Elanee with some relief.

"Gods, yes, let's get out of here!" moaned Neeshka. For all her exhaustion, Raewyn laughed, and they all agreed, happy to leave. "I, too will rest much better under the sky than in this place."


	4. Chapter 4: Back to the Well

They left the cave to find dusk approaching, but they traveled until moonrise, wishing to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the caverns. They tumbled to the ground where they stopped, and slept dreamlessly. Even Casavir's sleep was untroubled, despite the horrors of the caverns. The following day dawned bright and clear, and the morning sun did much to cheer the little band as they made their way back down through the mountains to Old Owl Well.

"Well, Casavir, it seems Neverwinter has joined the cause after all, and between our two forces, we can accomplish a greater good." They were walking through an open valley, for the moment no longer needing to walk single file, and Raewyn was happy for the chance to speak with the paladin.

"Yes." he agreed, sounding almost amiable. "But even the efforts here on behalf of Neverwinter have been spurred on only by the need to re-open the trade route to Yartar, not out of a sense of responsibility or a greater good."

Raewyn considered this. "So you are saying who knows how long Neverwinter would have allowed these people to suffer had it not happened to be to Lord Nasher's advantage to act, not for their good, but his own agenda. The benefit to the people here is only a happy accident, not the reason, as it should have been."

"Exactly." He sounded surprised that she understood.

"I never thought of it that way, but it is true."

"The policies of Neverwinter and the health of the city do depend on politics, on trade relations...but if that is the sole focus, then the people in need of aid are sometimes lost in its shadow. Yet it is the people who are the heart of Neverwinter. Those who serve Neverwinter should serve them, not the politics or trade routes, anymore than they do the stones of her walls."

Raewyn considered this, thinking of Shandra and her farm. "I met a farmer in Highcliff who said much the same thing. The lizard folk had been driven from their own homes, by more of the undead, I think, and had begun to move into the areas near Highcliff. Many people lost their farms, their livelihoods, but Neverwinter did nothing. She expressed the same frustration you have, and I am beginning to agree."

"But Raewyn," he said more softly, "you too spoke truly; a greater good has been accomplished, and you have shown that to me."

"I am glad that we are able to do something real here, together."

"As am I. Perhaps if there were more ones such as you in Neverwinter's service, it might draw others."

Casavir was thoughtful on the journey back to the Well. He knew that things had changed for him, and was uncertain of his course. His objective here was ostensibly complete. That he had, if he was being honest with himself, not expected to survive his crusade against the orcs was a reality with which he was now forced to contend. The path away from Old Owl Well was likewise something he had not expected to exist, but was something he must now consider. It struck him then that he no longer wished for death in the oblivion of battle as he had for so long.

Nevertheless, his choices were limited. He still bore the burden of the broken oaths in his past. He could continue here, work with the Graycloaks to defend the Well, though there was a chance his forsaken vows would mark him a traitor and lead to his arrest. Furthermore, with the tribes fallen back to their infighting, there was little chance they would pose any threat to the Well or its people for some time to come, which made his contribution somewhat pointless. There was also the problem of Katriona; he was not unaware of his sergeant's feelings for him, but he quite simply had nothing to offer her, and sensed that the matter could eventually grow unpleasant, particularly once the constant threat of battle waned. This too was something he had not expected to survive long enough to have to contend with. Then there was Raewyn.

The paladin found he had enjoyed fighting beside her. It was not at all the same thing as the way in which he had gloried in the fury of carnage before. Casavir realized that in fighting by her side, he did not feel the weight he had carried when he had led the men of Old Owl Well into battle, or the blind urge to lose himself in destruction. It was not only that he was no longer the leader with the weight of his men's lives on his shoulders, but that in Raewyn he had found an equal. Moreover, she was a leader that he truly respected, and whose judgement he trusted in spite of her youth. He considered this for a moment in light of all the doubts that had driven him to leave Neverwinter so long ago, and realized that it was the lack of a truly noble leader, someone with honor and integrity to follow, that had destroyed his ability to serve a Neverwinter that he had seen as growing increasingly corrupt.

In her however, he saw not corruption but hope. He knew she herself was bound to Neverwinter, a thought that did little to comfort him in light of his past. Still…. The truth was that Casavir loved Neverwinter. If it was possible that in serving this woman, he might find a way to serve his beloved home once more…. Certainly her quest seemed worthy, and offered what he had sought for so long—a way to turn his steel to real good. He remained lost in thought as they continued back to the Well.

As they made the descent from the mountains to Old Owl Well, Raewyn herself was also lost in thought. She realized she did not want the the paladin to leave. Or rather, that she didn't want to leave the Well without him. She doubted he could be persuaded to join her, especially in light of the frank longing in the eyes of his pretty young his sergeant. She felt a stab of jealousy and chided herself immediately. She'd only known the man a few days; to be jealous as though she had some kind of claim on him was ridiculous. In any case, knowing of his abrupt departure from Neverwinter, if not the whole reason why, she suspected he would be loathe to return there. Yet that was where her path inexorably led. Still, she felt as though she'd known Casavir for years, rather than the short time he had been at her side, and she couldn't help the the way her chest tightened as she looked ahead to their return to the Old Owl Well encampment.

They arrived just as dusk fell. A scout announced their arrival, and Callum awaited them with a hearty greeting at the opening in the fortifications.

"Ah, there you are. The Waterdeep emissary arrived here not long ago, safe and sound. Well done." He chuckled, shaking his head. "He told quite a tale about your heroic rescue, couldn't stop singing your praises. I can't wait to hear your version of the tale."

"Well, we have this to show, at least." Raewyn pulled out a tattered banner, emblazoned with a crudely painted eye and handed it proudly to the dwarf.

"Ah… and you brought Logram's Eyegouger banner." Pleased, Callum handed it off to his lieutenant. "That would explain why the orc attacks have stopped - without a chieftain, they're going to be fighting each other now." He turned back to Raewyn, seeming to notice the man at her elbow for the first time. "Well met, Casavir." He sounded puzzled.

"Callum. It is good to see you're still in one piece" Casavir replied with dry humor that didn't disguise his genuine affection.

Callum shot the paladin a measuring look. "I assume you were the one leading that band who was harassing the orcs? I owe you a great debt."

Casavir nodded his confirmation.

The dwarf grew sober, considering him. "Now that I know who was leading that mercenary band, I understand why it was so difficult for us to make contact with you." He shook his head again. "You've put me in a difficult position here, Casavir. Your leaving was sudden, and some even say, disloyal to Neverwinter."

Casavir looked away, clearly uncomfortable.

As much as Raewyn liked Callum, she was not about to allow him to haul Casavir away. "If you accuse Casavir of anything, you'll have to deal with me." She surprised herself a little with her vehemence, but she didn't regret it.

Casavir turned to her, surprise and gratitude softening his features. Raewyn's protectiveness was wholly unexpected, but he found it warmed him as nothing had in a long time. "My lady, I cannot have you defend me in this, but I thank you for your words." His own words were plain, but Raewyn could hear the depth of emotion in them.

Callum raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Don't worry. As for Casavir, no harm will come to him, I assure you. My report will read that the Graycloaks were able to hold off the orcs long enough for you to take Logram's head. That should make the Council happy that their money was well spent, and put you in good graces with them as well. And officially, Casavir was never here."

The dwarf addressed the paladin "Whatever reasons you had for leaving and going on to Old Owl Well; they are your own."

Raewyn smiled her gratitude to Callum before glancing at Casavir. "You'll have us to protect you as well, if you wish it."

Casavir was grateful, but looked a bit chagrined, and hastened to reassure her. "I thank you, but I will do my best to insure you are not drawn into my troubles." He turned to Callum once more. "What of my soldiers, Callum? They know Old Owl Well, and they fight as only those defending their homes will fight."

The dwarf pondered for a moment. "I could certainly use them if they don't mind wearing a uniform, my friend. My Graycloaks could certainly learn a thing or two from them. Of course, I'm going to have a hard time explaining to the Council how I ended up with another hundred mouths to feed - and arm." Nevertheless, he didn't look too distressed at the prospect.

"Is there anything else you need, Callum?" Raewyn asked.

She would have been happy to have a reason to put off her goodbyes to Casavir, but she knew she needed to begin the trip back to Neverwinter. "You've done more than your share of work here" the gruff sergeant replied. "Oh, and you may want to go see your friend Katriona, if you haven't already. I'm sure she'd like to make sure you're all right."

"We will. Thank you, Callum."

"You have my thanks for everything that you've done here, Raewyn. I hope we meet again."

"You're welcome, and thank you, too." Casavir turned to go, and Callum added quietly to Raewyn "And keep an eye on Casavir for me, will you? I hope you can help him."

"I do too." she answered, with a glance at the paladin.

The dwarf commander smiled, then called "Back to work for me. It was good seeing you again, Casavir. Good luck to you both."

She hurried to catch up to Casavir as he went to speak with Katriona. The blonde's face lit up as Casavir approached.

"It's good to see you again, Casavir. I heard you found Logram."

"We did. I am glad you were able to make it here to warn Callum. If we had failed, there would have been little keeping Logram and all the tribes from retaking this place." Casavir was all business, and the lieutenant's face fell a little at his cool demeanor. It fell a little farther as she saw Raewyn at his elbow.

"Any new orders? Even with the tribes in disarray, you and I could probably help with the Graycloaks….if you wanted." She hesitated as if uncertain of what he would do.

Raewyn swallowed hard, realizing that this was the moment. She hoped her voice sounded steadier than she felt. "Do you intend to rejoin your men, Casavir?" She studied the paladin's handsome profile, hoping against hope.

"No. The orcs no longer hold Old Owl Well. It has been freed for the people here, not solely for a Neverwinter trade route." he replied without hesitating. "There is no reason for me to stay here any longer."

Katriona's face went white for a moment before she recovered her composure, though Casavir seemed not to see her look of dismay. She shrugged then. "Going to leave just the way you arrived, are you, Casavir? So where does that leave me?"

In spite of herself, Raewyn felt some sympathy for the other woman. "You know, Callum could use your skills, Katriona. Few know the mountains as well as you."

Casavir looked at Raewyn, considering. "If you are an example of what the Neverwinter Watch means now, I think that would be a good match. But it is Katriona's decision, not mine."

"Hmm. It might be time for me to find something a little more challenging. These orcs were tough, but... " Katriona gave them both a sad smile, and went to speak with Callum.

The paladin watched her go. "She's quite capable. I couldn't have asked for a finer sergeant." He made this observation in all seriousness. For some reason, he felt he needed to make it plain to Raewyn that he did not return Katriona's affections.

Raewyn bit back a giggle. She wondered if he really did not know that his Sergeant had been in love with him?

"I'm certain she was. So does this mean you're going to stick with me? Uh, I mean, with us?" Her cheeks colored a bit as she corrected herself. "I have to make a stop on the way, but you know I'm heading back to Neverwinter…."

"If you will have me, my lady, then yes, I would offer my sword for your service. Even to Neverwinter."

"I would be honored and grateful to have you at my side, Casavir."


	5. Chapter 5: The Ironfist Stronghold

As they set out from Old Owl well, Casavir felt uneasy, but at the same time oddly elated to be on the road again, even to be returning to Neverwinter. He knew that Raewyn's first stop on reaching the city would be to report to the Watch Captain Brelaina, but he trusted that she would not put him into an awkward position. It was simply not her way. Instead, he focused his attentions on the journey ahead, leaving the return to Neverwinter for its own time.

Along the road, Raewyn took advantage of the relative quiet of the journey to talk with her newest companion. Casavir had been telling her what he knew of the Sword Mountains and the area surrounding Old Owl Well.

"But I have to ask, at first, when you went there alone? Isn't that sort of...well, suicide?" She was still trying to puzzle out how the reasonable and honorable man she was talking to could possibly be the _Katalmach_.

Casavir looked uncomfortable, but spoke firmly. "I went alone, because I had to. Battling the tribes of the Old Owl Well is something that must be done. It is simple, a necessary act." There was pain in his voice now. "There is no doubt as to what must be done, no... conflicts."

"Conflicts?" She looked at him, wanting him to see that she would not judge him, but letting him take time to find his words.

It took him a moment to answer, and when did did he spoke with difficulty. "There are battles that can be fought, and others that cannot. It is a difficult thing to speak of."

She placed her hand on his arm. "Whatever these battles may be, you don't have to fight them alone, Casavir."

"You are correct. Your presence has steadied me in these difficult times. You have even helped achieve resolution where before there were only doubts. And for that, I thank you."

"I am glad, Casavir. I only hope that…."

"Hope what, my lady?"

"Well, I hope that you do not feel the need to...that is…I hope that you will find a real place with me… with us, I mean." she hastily corrected herself. "I know we're a strange bunch, but, you always have a home here if you want it."

He did not answer immediately, and she feared she had said too much. Then he said quietly "I cannot say what the future holds, my lady, but it now holds hope, where before there was none." He held her gaze as he spoke, as though willing her to hear more than what his words alone conveyed. "And for that too, I thank you."

The stop along the way to which Raewyn had referred was at a small dwarven scout encampment in the foothills of the Sword Mountains, only a few days out of their way. Khelgar had gotten word of the Ironfist presence, and wanted to connect with his clansmen. Raewyn felt that the extra days' journey was a small sacrifice to make for the Ironfist, who'd been the first of her companions. Along the way, Khelgar was in high spirits, and told them some of the lore of his clan, its heroes and battles.

When they arrived, however, the reception from Khulmar, the leader of the scout band, was chilly. As they neared the encampment, a severe looking Ironfist challenged them. "You're a strange band to be wandering these mountains."

Khelgar strode forward, recognizing the other dwarf. "Khulmar? I could say the same - what are you doing here, far from Ironfist lands?"

Khulmar scowled at him. "Not as far you'd think, Khelgar, though I doubt we are here for the same reasons. It's clan business, not for outsiders."

Casavir watched with interest as Raewyn stepped forward, and in that inexplicable way she had, turned what would have been a bruising conflict for Khlegar into another opportunity to help not only one of her companions, but the Ironfist clan as well.

"We are scouting out the old Ironfist clan hold in these mountains, seeing if it can be reopened - or retaken."

Khelgar fairly glowed with excitement at Khlumar's words. "All right then, let's get to the clanhold door...and hopefully there's something beyond it that needs to be taught a lesson in battle."

"There are bugbears blocking the way..." Khlumar cautioned.

"Bugbears? Then what are we waiting for? Let's bury them!"

Raewyn and the others had to laugh at Khelgar's eagerness. It seemed his enthusiasm was as catching as it was amusing, for soon after, they were headed into the hills to find the Ironfist clan-hold.

The bugbears in the clan-hold provided little real resistance, many of them falling to each other and their greed before the company could challenge them. Their leader, Grausch, a massive bugbear who stood fully twice even Casavir's height, had fled. They pursued him into the depths of the clan-hold, finally cornering him in a large room deep within the network of corridors.

Raewyn attacked the massive bugbear from the left, seeing Casavir approach from the right. She didn't see the unlucky blow that knocked him down. She only turned in time to see him fly across the room, crashing like a rag doll against the far wall. She froze, waiting for him to rise, but he remained still.

"Nooooo!"

Ice water seemed to fill her veins, and she wasn't aware of herself screaming as she struck at the creature in front of her, again and again. Even after he fell, she rained blow after blow on the body, screaming in rage. It took Khelgar's grip on her sword hand before she stopped, blinking in disorientation. She turned to Casavir then, seeing him still unmoving on the floor.

She was kneeling beside him before she knew her feet moved, her hands running over his armored form, seeking injury. "Elanee!" she cried. The druidess hurried over, and began a healing spell at once. Raewyn fished in her pack and found a healing potion. She uncorked it and held it to the paladin's unresponsive lips, pouring the contents into his mouth. He stirred with a groan, and she released the breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

She rose and stalked quickly from the room. Her companions watched her exit wordlessly, mystified by her behavior. As she left, her hands were clenched into fists to keep them from shaking. She stopped just around the corner and leaned against the wall. Breathing hard, she gave in to the trembling that she had suppressed in the presence of the others. She felt tears hot on her cheeks and struggled to bring her breathing under control.

When she felt calmer, she allowed herself to explore her reaction. She had panicked, pure and simple. She saw the paladin fall, and she panicked. True, she had not yet lost any of her companions. There had been close calls before, and she had felt fear, worry, distress. But never the kind of bone-deep terror that had gripped her at the sight of Casavir's still form.

That brought her up short. Why had Casavir's fall evoked such a reaction in her? The question brought a twisting in her chest she didn't understand. She realized she didn't want to understand it, and dismissed it. It didn't matter; she needed to learn to control her fear better. A moment of panic over a fallen companion could put them all at risk; her crazed assault on the bugbear even after it had fallen was evidence of that. With a few last deep breaths, she headed back to her companions.

Still a little unsettled, she avoided Casavir's eyes when she reentered the room, though a quick glance in his direction showed him to be fully recovered thanks to Elanee's healing and her own administration of the healing elixir. The others were searching the few crates and trunks the room contained. Khelgar had asked Neeshka over to look at a chest he was having difficulty opening. In moments the tiefling gleefully announced the defeat of yet another lock, an stood back with a flourish to let Khelgar do the honors and open the trunk. Raewyn joined them as they rifled the contents. She pulled out a pair of beautifully wrought gantlets, crafted of some dark metal chased with silver scrollwork. They felt solid in her hands, but lighter than Raewyn expected.

"I don't believe it. Our clan thought they had been lost forever." Khelgar's voice was tinged with awe. Raewyn raised an eyebrow in question.

"My clan history may not be what it should, but I know what these are - the Gauntlets of Ironfist, held by the first of our kings…" On Raewyn's quizzical look, he elaborated. "Torim Ironfist, our last great king, was said to have worn them when our homeland fell to the orcs." He frowned, thinking hard. "But that would mean this clan-hold is...This must be our first clan-hold, the halls where Torim made his final stand... if I had only known this place was here... that these were here."

"So these are an artifact, a clan heirloom?"

"Oh, it's much more than that. We Ironfists wouldn't wear something like these if they didn't have a practical use, too. Anyone who wears them gains the strength of ten, maybe twenty... it's how the clan earned the name Ironfist. With these, you could probably punch through a stone wall."

"That sounds most useful. A marvel of dwarven craftsmanship."

"And that's just the beginning. It's said that if the wearer also wielded the Hammer of Ironfist, he could fell dragons with one blow. It must be destiny that I've found them. It must mean that the Ironfist clan shall reclaim our home." he paused, looking at the gauntlets. He held them out to Raewyn. "Here. You should take the gauntlets, Raewyn. You've performed a great service for me and my clan."

Casavir, overhearing the conversation was impressed. In his experience, dwarven folk didn't share their secrets or their treasures lightly, and the cool reception they'd received on their arrival had done nothing to make him expect otherwise. That the Ironfist offered the gauntlets to Raewyn spoke volumes about the regard in which he held her. He was curious to see what she'd do.

"I'm honored" she said softly. "But they belong with your clan, an Ironfist should wear them. You keep them." In the shadows, unseen by Raewyn, Casavir regarded her with pride and approval.

The Ironfist looked up at her, gratitude glowing in his eyes. "I... I thank you. I'm far from a king, but it means a lot to me that you feel I'm worthy enough to wear them." He looked embarrassed for a minute, then cleared his throat loudly. "Well, then. We'd best be moving on. It looks like the rest of this placed has collapsed. We should report back to Khulmar and his scouts, tell them what we've found."

They headed out, Casavir hanging back, wanting some time to think. He didn't know exactly what had happened earlier. He recalled moving in to attack the massive beast, and then he had a faint memory of flying through the air and slamming into something very hard, and then darkness. But he also remembered her cry of denial as he sank into blackness.

He had swum up from the darkness slowly, but he remembered her at his side, her hands searching him, the fear in her voice as she called to Elanee, her frantic tenderness as she fed him the potion. He also remembered her abrupt departure. And she hadn't said a word to him since. Casavir pondered this as they headed back down the mountain, his heart troubled.

When Raewyn and her band returned back to the encampment, Khelgar told his clansmen about their discoveries. He beamed as he showed Khulmar the gauntlets. The older dwarf didn't recognize them at first, then he was as awestruck as Khelgar had been, but he declined Khelgar's offer of them.

"No, Khelgar, if you two found them, then they were meant to be held by you both for a time. When your journey is done, perhaps you shall return them to us."

Khelgar asked if they could do anything else, and Raewyn seconded the offer, happy to see Khelgar back in he good graces of his clan.

"Our wounds have healed, and you've already given us enough aid. Perhaps we were too quick to judge your allies, Khelgar." The stout warrior turned to Raewyn. "The Ironfist Clan is in your debt, Raewyn Thorne, this I swear to you in stone and steel. Such a debt shall not be forgotten in the days to come."

Raewyn nodded and took the Ironfist's proffered hand in a firm grip. He turned back to Khelgar. "And Khelgar...if your path lies with this one, so be it. But the clan shall await your return."

"It shall not be long, I think, Khulmar, but someone needs to watch out for this little one or else she'll be lying in a grave."

"Me? Little?" Raewyn laughed, giving the Ironfist a friendly punch in the shoulder.

"Very well, Khelgar, may stone shield you from the sky, and ale be always at your hand," his face turned mischievous "but not too much ale, you know how you get after the twelfth tankard."

They all laughed then and took their leave of the scouts, having found new friends in he tough dwarven clan. Casavir had said little, but as they left the rocky valleys and broke into rolling foothills, he drew beside Raewyn.

"My lady, may I speak with you?"

"Of course, Casavir."

"I must offer my apologies. I failed you in the clan-hold. If you would prefer that I serve you no longer…."

"Failed me?!" She was taken aback. "What do yo mean?"

"I fell, to a foe that should not have beaten me. You might have been hurt or…."

"Casavir, you didn't fail me. I should have been more cautious instead of charging us all in there like that. If anything I failed you. And when...I was so…." she stopped, looking away, her face tense. "I'm just glad you're alright."

"You wish me to continue with you then?

"Yes, Casavir." She smiled at him for the first time since the battle with the bugbears. "I wish it very much."


	6. Chapter 6: Return to Neverwinter

They turned their steps back to Neverwinter at last. Raewyn was eager to get back to see her uncle, and rest for a few days in a real bed. They had found so much gear that they could sell that they were all eager to visit the city's merchants. And Raewyn intended to get Casavir some better armor as soon as possible. Looking down at her own battered gear, she realized it might be time to do so for herself, too.

"Casavir? How do you feel about kobolds?" she asked, amusing herself imagining his reaction to Deekin. She had come to be quite fond of the little merchant with the bardic aspirations, and she hoped the paladin would not object to dealings with one of his kind.

"Kobolds, my lady?" He regarded her with puzzlement. "I have heard that they can be troublesome, but I have never encountered any. Why?"

"Just curious" she answered with a mischievous grin. "We have some shopping to do when we return to the city, that's all."

Casavir found himself far less surprised than the man he was just a month past would have predicted to see how she seemed to connect with the people she encountered in Neverwinter. Despite knowing her uncle Duncan was in fact the brother of the elf who had fostered her, Casavir had not expected the scruffy and genial innkeeper. Inns and tavern had never been a significant part of his life before, but he felt welcome and found himself enjoying the prospect of staying at the inn for a while. He himself hadn't seen an actual bed in well over a year.

After reporting to Captain Brelaina first thing the following morning, Raewyn returned to announce that she intended to purchase new equipment, and urged the rest to do likewise. She handed each of them their share of gold that they had found together with their share of what they had earned from the sale of the other items they brought back.

"Casavir, would you care to accompany me? Perhaps you know of some stalls here in Neverwinter I don't, and I have someone I'd like you to meet." This was all true, but Raewyn was positive that Casavir, unlike the rest, would not spend the gold he'd earned on himself, and she wanted to be sure he had the best gear possible, even if she needed to provide it herself.

"Very well, my lady." For his part, Casavir did not particularly relish shopping as a pastime, but he was happy of the chance to spend the day in her company without the clamor of the rest of their group.

Raewyn's first destination was a tiny, ramshackle stall in the merchant quarter. Casavir raised an eyebrow at her as they approached, thinking this stall was more likely to house black market goods than anything they would require. There was no shopkeeper was in sight.

"Are you certain this is where you wish to obtain equipment, my lady? It seems…" he trailed off, hoping she would understand, since he could think of no diplomatic way to say what he was thinking.

She just laughed. "Don't be too quick to judge, Casavir. Appearances can be deceiving!" They reached the stall, and she called out "Deekin?"

From behind the haphazard piles of stock peered a small reptilian face. "Watch Lady!" the creature exclaimed with delight "You come back to see Deekin!" Casavir's jaw dropped as with a clang and clatter of weapons, creates, and odds and ends, a kobold scurried out and Raewyn knelt to give the creature a hug.

She stood, holding the kobold's scaly claw, and beamed at the paladin. "Casavir, allow me to present Deekin Scalesinger, former companion to the hero of Neverwinter, bard, red dragon disciple, story teller, and presently purveyor of some of the finest goods in Neverwinter!" Suppressing a giggle at the thunderstruck paladin, she turned to Deekin. "And Deekin, I present Casavir, paladin of Tyr, and the newest of my companions."

The kobold eyed Casavir critically. "He's very tall, lady. Deekin thinking he's a good fighter, and maybe good friend, but not talk much."

At that, her giggle finally escaped. "You are perceptive as always, my friend. But I need to see the best armor you have for him."

Casavir didn't know why he continued to be surprised by her. Given the mix of companions she traveled with, why shouldn't she be bosom buddies with a kobold adventurer-turned-merchant? He shook his head with amusement, but then hearing her request to the kobold, he interjected. "My lady, you must not spend your gold on me."

"Casavir, you need better armor. I suspected you would not buy it for yourself, so I am going to. Besides, I've been at this a while, I have a bit of a stash built up by now." Her voice softened a little. "I don't want to lose you, Casavir, and it's worth far more than a few coins to keep you safe." She looked away, feeling like she'd said too much, but her throat caught as she recalled the panic she'd felt when she saw him fall to the floor in the dwarven clan-hold.

The paladin was moved by her concern. He had half expected her to be angry at his failure in the hold, but instead she'd rushed to his side, her only concern for his welfare, and she was doing the same now. "Very well, my lady, but you must allow me to repay you."

"There is no need, Casavir. You repay me with your presence." Her cheeks colored a little, and she turned quickly back to the kobold.

By the time they finished, she had purchased a beautifully made set of enchanted plate armor and a set of bracers for Casavir, a new sword belt for herself, a bow for Grobnar which Deekin said would work in conjunction with his spellsongs—Casavir was not sure he wanted to know how the kobold knew that, but Raewyn seemed confident in his information—and a finely made elven cloak for Elanee. Raewyn arranged for one of the district watchmen with whom she was acquainted to deliver the items to the Flagon after his duty shift.

"Thank you so much Lanar. Deekin couldn't possibly get all this to the Flagon by himself. I'll see that my uncle has a few tankards set side for you."

"It's no trouble Raewyn, I'm always happy to help you." said the watchman, smiling eagerly. "I'll see you this evening then?"

She and the watchman were quite friendly, and Casavir had the distinct impression that the watchman hoped his assistance would merit a personal sort of gratitude from Raewyn. The paladin felt himself bristling at the idea of this Lanar flirting with her. He bit down hard on the sudden flare of jealousy. Such matters were none of his concern. Nevertheless, as they wandered the city together after completing their errands, he was silent for a while, absorbed in contemplating his unexpected ire at the watchman's enthusiasm.

Raewyn, too was thoughtful as they enjoyed the fine day. She reflected that her spontaneous comment earlier about his presence had been true. His presence calmed her. Not just his prayers and healing, but his quiet faith. It wasn't even really his faith in Tyr, but his faith in her which became a gentle tide that bore her up when weariness overtook her. When her other companions quarreled, she found herself meeting his eyes and sharing a sense of serene amusement as if over the squabbles of children. She relied upon him in battle, to be sure; he and Khelgar were a steady bulwark at her back, but as fond as she was of Khelgar, Casavir alone provided the same sense of support outside of battle.

Even now, as they walked together in silence, she was happy just to have him at her side. She reached out towards him unconsciously, and had to stop herself from taking his hand in her own. Instead, struck by a sudden thought, she asked him "Casavir? Would you like to visit the Temple of Tyr? It's just over in the next street…."

Casavir stopped abruptly, and Raewyn had to backtrack a few steps to return to him. Visit the Temple? Was she mocking him? He looked at her as she stood facing him, seeing only sincerity in her face.

"To be honest, my lady, I...don't know. I had not thought to return to Neverwinter, and therefore had not considered doing so. Nor has it occurred to me to do so since we have come here, though I am not sure I know why." He stopped, uncertain of what to say, or for that matter, what to do. "I suppose I am uncertain of my welcome there."

She put her hands on his shoulders and looked up at him. He saw concern and care in her gaze. "Casavir, you have maintained your faith, have you not?"

He nodded.

"And you have retained Tyr's grace, for your paladin abilities are strong as ever, correct?"

He nodded again. "Stronger in fact, since I have traveled with you, my lady."

"Then no matter what anyone else thinks, Tyr will welcome you." She smiled encouragingly. "And since it is his house, I think he's the one that counts, don't you?"

He bowed his head, hiding the unexpected sting of tears in his eyes. How could this young woman cut so easily through his every doubt, his every fear? With a simple suggestion she had set his world tilting beneath his feet, and then with a few words, set it all in balance again. Blinking hard, he met her eyes once more.

"Yes, perhaps you are correct. I would be most honored if you would accompany me, my lady."

She smiled and linked her arm through his. "My pleasure, my good paladin."

They entered the temple quietly, their steps echoing in the massive vault above them. Raewyn breathed deeply, feeling herself steadied by the scent of incense that swirled around them. She let Casavir go ahead, but stayed within a pace of two of him. She knew this was a difficult step for him to take, and she wanted him to know he was not alone.

A priest in a blue robe bearing the hammer and scales of Tyr emerged from a door near the front of the sanctuary and walked to meet them. Raewyn recognized Hlam as the priest she had met when Judge Oleff had asked her assistance in rescuing one of his fellow priests from the Tomb of the Betrayers. His eyes widened when he saw Casavir, but a wide smile followed at once, and Raewyn released the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding.

"Casavir! Well met, my friend! I did not think to see you again" He extended his hand, and grasping the paladin's, pulled him into an warm embrace.

"Hlam. Well met, indeed. Neither did I think to return." They stepped apart. "It is good to see you again."

The priest put his hands on Casavir's shoulders and his tone grew formal "Tyr welcomes you to his sanctuary. May his grace be upon you."

Casavir felt as if a great weight lifted from his shoulders then. He drew an unsteady breath, then turned to indicate his companion.

"Hlam, may I present my companion, Raewyn Thorne Farlong. It is by her grace that I have returned, and I have pledged to her my sword and my service."

"Well met again, Raewyn. I could never imagine you would have encountered Casavir, but I can think of no one better for him. You have Tyr's thanks, and my own, for bringing his path back to us." He took her hand and embraced her in turn.

"Hlam. Good it is to see you again, too. Casavir honors me, and I am grateful to have met him. I thank you for welcoming his return."

Casavir's brows nearly met his hairline as he too in this exchange. "My lady, you are known here?"

"Well," she flushed a bit, waving her hand dismissively, embarrassed as she always was by discussion of her past exploits. "I was able to offer some small assistance a while ago…."

"Nonsense; 'small assistance,' indeed!" cried Hlam. "Casavir, she faced the shade of Fenthik himself to bring one of our own out of the Tomb of Betrayers."

"Fenthik Moss? The lover of Aribeth de Tylmarande?" Casavir looked at Raewyn, his eyes wide. "You were in the Tomb of Betrayers?" And back to Hlam "Why were the shades walking the tomb?" Raewyn bit back a smile at his flurry of questions.

"Why they were roused, I don't know, but these are strange times." He waved them toward the back of the temple. "Come, come, let us sit a while, and share our tales. I'll put on some tea. Clearly we all have much to tell."

It was hours later when they finally made their way back towards the docks. Casavir felt more at ease than he had in a long time. "My lady, I hope you will not grow weary of my gratitude, but I wish to thank you once again. I cannot express what it means to me to be reconciled with Tyr's house. You have helped me to return, and it is a debt I can never repay."

"No thanks are needed, Casavir. I have been loathe to see your unease, so to see your happiness is thanks enough." She shivered suddenly. "It has grown chilly, though. I have truly enjoyed this day with you, but can we hurry back?"

"Here, my lady." he removed his cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders, the action bringing them close together. She looked up at him, feeling herself wrapped in his warmth, though not only where it lingered on his cloak.

"Won't you get cold?" she asked quietly, feeling her pulse racing at his nearness. He heard her sudden uncertainty and saw a longing in her eyes.

"My lady's care warms me no matter the weather" he replied, feeling an answering pull rising in his chest. He looked away then, feeling a little like he was standing on a very high ledge. He put his arm across her shoulders and guided their steps back to the Flagon.


	7. Chapter 7: Assassins & Allies

Their return to Sunken Flagon was quiet. As it happened, Lanar, Raewyn's fellow Watchman who had agreed to bring their purchases to the inn, had come and gone by the time they returned. Casavir felt a rather uncharitable flush of satisfaction that the lad had not remained long enough for Raewyn to thank him personally. Once again, he wondered at the sensation, but chose to dismiss it without further examination.

The others had returned earlier, and after distributing the items she had purchased, and suffering graciously through Grobnar's expression of gratitude, which naturally took the form of a song, Raewyn and the rest settled in for dinner. The others were anxious to show off their own new acquisitions as well, and the gathering took on the air of a holiday. Casavir sat a little apart as had become his custom, but he found their talk and laughter less of a trial than it had been at first.

He pondered this, watching Raewyn. She, too, sat a little to one side, but she was nonetheless the center of the group, the force that drew them together and kept them together. It was her personality as much as her quest that had not only forged strong bonds of loyalty, but even made genuine friends of these disparate individuals, and he marveled again at her ability to do so. That she seemingly did it without actively doing anything made it the more remarkable.

The paladin was distracted from his musings by a sudden uneasiness at the edge of his awareness. He looked around, seeking the source, and his gaze settled on a hooded figure at the far corner of the room. Casavir had noticed the man the day before, always remaining in the shadowed corners of the common area. He had seen no one, not even Duncan, address the stranger, though the food and drink before him seemed to indicate that innkeeper was aware of him. He seemed to materialize from nowhere, and vanish as unexpectedly, and Casavir realized that he had felt the same sense of unease the last time he had appeared.

There was something else he had not noticed before, and which came to his attention only because of the angle at which he and the stranger were positioned. The man was watching Raewyn with the attentiveness of a wolf watching its prey. Casavir looked to Raewyn, relieved to see that she seemed wholly unaware of the man's surveillance, but unsettled nevertheless. Who was he and what was his interest in her? He looked back to the man to find the stranger's eyes now fixed on him, an expression of hatred in his predatory golden stare. He rose from his seat, intending to discover the hooded man's intentions, but as he did a messenger entered the room, asking for Raewyn. By the time Casavir looked back, his quarry had vanished.

The messenger brought yet another assignment from Captain Brelaina. Raewyn took every such task she'd been given seriously; it was simply her nature to do so. Nevertheless, she chafed at the continued delay in progress on the task that had brought her to Neverwinter, namely identifying the mysterious silver shard, and uncovering the agenda of the strange beings that hunted both her and it. Yet, at the same time, she couldn't quite shake the feeling that the unrest in the city and her own quest were related, even though she couldn't begin to see how.

Her companions meanwhile, had fallen quiet, knowing the messenger usually meant a new assignment, and they listened closely as Raewyn spoke.

"It seems we have a new task at hand. We are to intercept a Luskan ship here at the docks. Captain Brelaina suspects the ship carries spies, and we are to prevent them from disembarking. I know it's late, but the ship is docking in an hour. We must leave at once. I don't think this should be too dangerous, but one never knows. Who wants to go with me?"

As was usually the case, everyone did, except of course for Qara, who never seemed to want to do anything unless she thought of it herself, and it involved setting something or someone on fire. Raewyn thought for a moment, then selected Casavir, Khelgar, Elanee, and Grobnar. The latter was ecstatic at the chance to use his new bow. "Easy Grobnar, I am hopeful we will not need to fight."

Khelgar burst out laughing. "If there is anyone who could talk your way out of a scrape, it's you, lass, but I doubt even you can silver-tongue a boatload of Luskan spies."

As they gathered their gear, Raewyn approached the tiefling. "Neeshka, I need you to do me a favor if you're willing."

"I wondered why you didn't ask me to go." She'd been disappointed, and Raewyn was happy to see her renewed enthusiasm. "What do you need?"

"Nothing stolen, Neeshka," she warned with a smile, the rogue's tendency for thievery something like a joke between them. "Awwww…." Neeshka pretended to pout.

Raewyn continued "I need you to find out whatever you can about the hooded man who comes in here sometimes. I think Duncan knows who he is, but don't let him know you're looking into it."

"Sure thing, but why?"

"I'm not actually sure, but I just have a bad feeling about him. I think he's been watching me, and with everything going on, I want to know why, but I don't want him to know I'm even aware of it."

"You got it, Raewyn. He kind of gives me the creeps, too. I'll see what I can find out. This should be fun!"

"Try not to break too many laws, alright?" Raewyn said laughing. "Wish us luck with this ship."

The tiefling gave her promise, wished them luck, and they departed. Khelgar was correct in the end, and the encounter turned to combat.

They arrived at the docks as the evening mist rolled in from the water. The _Sea Ghost_ was a large ship, lavishly, even ostentatiously decorated. As Raewyn and her companions approached, she saw a small group of men on the quay, and she headed toward them.

"Excuse me. Are you from the _Sea Ghost_?" At his nod she continued. "I am Raewyn Thorne of the Neverwinter Watch. I have been instructed to inform you that you are not to enter the City, on the orders of Watch Captain Brelaina."

The men looked at her, then returned to their conversation. "Naturally. Why doesn't anyone ever take me seriously?" grumbled Raewyn. She turned to glare at Khelgar's chuckle behind her. With a sigh, she motioned her companions to follow and headed out onto the quay.

"Gentlemen, I must insist you re-board your ship and leave this port. If you don't, I will be forced to put you under arrest."

An arrogant man in a strangely fashioned robe, presumably the leader of the group, took a few steps toward Raewyn, his face openly contemptuous. "We Luskans travel where we want, when we want, and if we want to land here in this filth-hole of a city, then we will."

"This is your last warning, Luskan. You will leave this quay on board your ship, or you will not leave it at all."

With a haughty laugh, he gestured his men to attack. "Told you!" yelled Khelgar as he raised his axe and charged forward, the rest of the group doing likewise.

For several moments the docks were lit up with spells flying in both directions, for the leader of the Luskan party proved to be a formidable mage. Raewyn dodged a fireball as she advanced on him. As was her habit, she sidestepped his two henchman, perceiving the mage as the greater threat. She knew Casavir and Khelgar would have her back, and the arrows and spells from Elanee and Grobnar would help slow their opponents. The henchmen fell quickly, and it seemed to Raewyn that the mage was tiring.

The mage held up a hand in surrender, giving a barking laugh in spite of his labored breathing. "So it seems my prey was waiting for me. I yield, Harborman."

"I was your prey?" Raewyn drew up short, finding herself once again knowing nothing about a situation that the other party clearly knew more about, and not liking it one bit.

"Indeed. My Master has grown impatient with the frequency with which you cross our path." the mage sounded like he was enjoying her confusion, and Raewyn's ire rose further. Her eyes widened as a few of the puzzle pieces fell into place. It seemed that Luskan was indeed the source of the smuggled weapons she had intercepted, as it seemed they had armed the orcs of Old Owl Well. But why would Luskan want to arm dockside thugs, or orcs, for that matter? And were they also behind the efforts to undermine the Watch?

"Then Luskan should stay out of Neverwinter." Raewyn retorted. "I'm happy to start with you."

"Luskan?" The mage looked surprised, then smug. "Ah, you think my master and Luskan are one and the same. No, it is a sleight of hand you see, where the left does not see what the right is doing...and the four Hosttowers do not yet see what the Master of the Fifth plots."

"What in the hells are you talking about?" barked Khelgar from her elbow, and Raewyn looked back to the mage, adding "Master of the Fifth Tower?"

"Yes, Black Garius, my master. But he does not serve Luskan, not at all. His ambitions lie higher than nations, I think. When Luskan finds out what he plots, I do not think they shall be pleased, but by then, I think, it shall be too late" He paused then, looking over Raewyn and her companions.

"As for you, you have crossed him more than once, and I was sent to remind you that you would serve us better in death."

Raewyn rolled her eyes. It alway came back to the threats. She was tired of riddles and wordplay. "Enough. Save your stories for the Watch."

In response, the mage, who had caught a second wind despite his yammering, launched a fresh volley of spells at the group. Even his spells however, couldn't keep Casavir's blade from him, and it was over in minutes.

Once Brelaina's men had arrived to secure the vessel, they headed back, puzzling over the Luskan mage's words. It certainly seemed that Brelaina's hunch had been correct, and they were not the innocent traders they had pretended to be. It was possible they were in fact the suppliers of weapons to both the dockside gangs and the Eyegouger Clan. But Raewyn and her companions didn't know what to make of this talk of Black Garius.

"Well, it seems to make sense that these Luskans were behind the shipments of weapons that have been smuggled in to Neverwinter, and likely the efforts to suborn the Watch. Brelaina did say that all seemed too organized for the usual dockside rabble." Raewyn mused.

"Aye, I agree, lass. Those dock rats couldn't have dreamt up that scheme without someone feeding them the idea." Khelgar observed.

"Much as the plan to abduct the emissary from Waterdeep and send a replacement is too sophisticated a plan for the orcs of Old Owl Well." added Casavir.

"Right. I hate to say this, but it does seem a little unlikely that even Luskan would attempt to reopen hostilities so soon after establishing diplomatic relations with Neverwinter, so maybe there is something to the claim that these agents are not operating under official Luskan orders." mused Raewyn. "Casavir, you know a bit more about this kind of politics than I do. What do you think?"

Casavir had a little more knowledge than the rest of them, but even he could only offer speculation. "Luskan is only loosely governed by the towers. It is not unheard of for one segment of the Brotherhood to break with the others, and operate as a rogue entity. It seems likely that is the case here." He stopped, uncertain whether to go on. He was loathe to worry her, but decided it was more important to warn Raewyn of the danger. "We must be careful, my lady. I am concerned that the agents of this Garius seem to be seeking you directly, and to know much about you."

"Hells, that's right! He knew I was from West Harbor, didn't he? I missed that in all the rest. Where could he be getting the information?"

"That is one thing that worries me, lady. We seem to have dealt with the agents aboard the _Sea Ghost_, but clearly their master is elsewhere, and we do not know that other agents he may have in Neverwinter."

"Of course. It can never be easy." Raewyn sighed, then gave a sardonic shrug. "Well, I will have to report to Brelaina; perhaps she will be able to make sense of this." The others broke off to head back to the Sunken Flagon.

"Casavir?"

"Yes, my lady?"

"Would you be willing to accompany me? I know you have preferred to avoid the Watch, and I do understand, so it's alright if you say no. But I think your experience could be valuable in this instance. I trust Captain Brelaina, and Marshall Cormick is an old friend. I do not think either of them will...object to your assistance."

She looked up at the paladin, knowing the difficulty of what she was asking, and saw the conflicting emotions warring in his face. Her heart ached to put this upon him, but she had no way to know how long she would be in Neverwinter's service. If he was to stay with her, which she wanted more than anything, he would need to find his place here.

For his part, Casavir too had known this would come, and he had dreaded it. The thought of confronting charges for his abandonment of duty, or of being dragged away in chains made his blood run cold. He realized it was not for is own sake, but for hers that he feared this fate. Yet he, too knew he must confront his past if he was to stay at Raewyn's side.

As he thought further, he realized his dread was muffled, a shadow of what it had been when leaving Old Owl Well. Even then, he had known Raewyn was returning to Neverwinter, and had been willing to risk it to follow her. And in the end, his first concern was to do anything he could to protect her from whatever threatened. If he could lend his experience or knowledge to the Watch's effort, then he would offer it.

He looked at her, his care and loyalty making his voice firm despite his misgivings. "My place is at your side, my lady. I will go with you gladly, and offer whatever I assistance I can."

They entered the Watch, and after greeting Captain Brelaina, Raewyn gestured to the man beside her. "This is my companion, Casavir. I believe his experience may be helpful in uncovering the truth of the events here."

Brelaina studied her for a moment, then glanced at Casavir before returning her assessing stare to Raewyn. "I know of Casavir's history in Neverwinter, and am aware he has returned to the city with you. Can you vouch for his loyalty?"

"I can, and I do." she answered without hesitation. "Casavir was instrumental in defending Old Owl well, and I could not have recovered Emissary Issani without his assistance. He has been an able and trusted comrade, and I do not hesitate to offer the honor of my name as pledge for his loyalty."

Behind her, Casavir again felt the warmth of her trust wash over him. Brelaina only nodded once, briskly. "Very well, then. Casavir, I welcome any insights you may have."

Together she and Casavir briefed Captain Brelaina on what had transpired at the docks, as well as their observations about the weapons they found at Old Owl Well.

Brelaina nodded thoughtfully. "I fear that the situation has become more complicated rather than less. And what you have told me only adds to the confusion, I am afraid."

"What do you mean?" asked Raewyn, with a worried glance at Casavir.

"Looks like you're making interesting enemies" replied Brelaina, seemingly unsure of what to make of the situation. "I have just received word from the Nine. They believe assassins are in Neverwinter, and have asked for our help in dealing with them. The problem is, according to our intelligence, they seem to be looking for you." She paused, measuring her words, and Raewyn felt Casavir place a steadying hand on her shoulder, unseen by the Captain.

"Moire's gang was the kind of trouble we usually face... I have no idea what these assassins want with you, though, that's new territory." Brelaina paused, looking over the names she had jotted down from Raewyn's account. "Though if, like those on the _Sea Ghost_, these assassins work not for Luskan itself, but for this Garius, that changes things…though it still leaves the question of what they want with you. Have you any idea?"

Raewyn looked to Casavir, and after a moment he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. She turned to the Captain. "I mean no disrespect, Captain, but while I may have an idea, I am not certain, and if I am mistaken, it may only further cloud matters. I think for the present, you may be better off not knowing."

Brelaina gave a short laugh. "I probably am, at that. Lieutenant, I don't intend to wait for the Nine to handle this. We have the location and I am giving you your orders. Proceed to the Merchant Quarter and deal with the situation. If the assassins pose a threat to Neverwinter, I want their presence here removed."

"Yes, Captain. We will do our best."

"Well, I hope you succeed. I'd hate to lose our most effective watchman to these foreigners. You have their location. Beyond that, there's nothing I can tell you, other than their presence has drawn the interest of some powerful people."

"Very well, thank you."

"Oh, and Raewyn?" Brelaina stopped her at the door, letting Casavir get a few steps away before speaking quietly to her.

"I do know a bit about Casavir, and despite my questions earlier, I know he does not give his allegiance lightly. I know his departure was unorthodox, but he is well thought of among both the Graycloaks and the Watch. There's few I can think of, in Neverwinter or anywhere, that I'd rather have at my back. You've done well to have him as an ally."

"Thank you Captain, I appreciate that. He will, too."

She and Casavir hurried back to the Flagon to inform the others. They decided they needed to rest at least a few hours before storming the house in the Merchant District where Brelaina's intelligence said the assassins were hiding. They agreed to rise at fifth candle and meet in the common room to plan their approach, and headed upstairs to their rooms, knowing morning would come all to soon.

Raewyn yawned and rose to go, but Casavir remained in his seat near the fire, staring into the flames. She went and sat next to him. Neither spoke for a while.

"Brelaina said that I was fortunate to have you as an ally."

He sighed but didn't answer for a moment.

"And you, my lady. Do you think yourself fortunate to count me your ally?" He sounded weary, and she knew he was thinking of Brelaina's questioning of his loyalty. "Or will you soon grow tired of defending me?"

"I think it will not be necessary. She told me you are highly regarded here. In Neverwinter, I mean. I was glad to hear it for your sake, but not at all surprised." She looked at him then. "But it wouldn't have mattered, Casavir. I know how fortunate I am to have you at my side, and nothing will ever change that. I would defend you from anything or anyone, as you would me."

She reached out and took his hand in her own, her thumb tracing over his calloused palm.

"You are correct, I will not ever fail to defend you while I breathe." His fingers tightened around hers, and they stayed there a long while, hands clasped, staring at the flames.

"The hour is late, my lady, and we have another fight ahead of us."

"Indeed. Goodnight, Casavir. Rest well."

"Rest well, my lady."

In the quiet predawn hours they did a quick reconnaissance of the house, but found only the front door passable. The went in, expecting to find heavy and immediate resistance. All they found was a few githyanki, each flanked by three or four bladelings. They moved on through the house, each of them getting more tense by the moment, expecting something more formidable around every corner.

They reached the back of the house and saw a strange multicolored light emanating form the back room. As they drew nearer, they saw a handful of githyanki warriors. The moment they entered, a massive armored figure holding huge blades in each hand crashed through the room, finishing off the last of the gith.

When the huge fighter saw them he turned, silhouetted for a moment against the swirling light of the portal at the back of the room. Without a sound except the pounding of his plated boots on the floor, the creature moved to attack them as well. Raewyn and her companions met the attack, but couldn't seem to get any solid hits; even Casavir's sword and Khlegar's axe seemed to bounce harmlessly off the dark metal plating. After a few moments, the fighter turned and lumbered into the glowing portal and was gone.

They stood gaping before Raewyn managed to sputter "What in the Nine Hells was that?"

"Just to make sure my eyes aren't lying to me; a huge suit of armor did smash through here, attack the githyanki, and us, then we drove it back through that portal?" Khelgar's confusion echoed Raewyn's own. "Because if my drinking is catching up with me, I'm stopping right now."

Raewyn agreed with the Ironfist. "No... no, that's about right." she said with a shudder.

"Good" said the dwarf, but he didn't sound relieved.

Grobnar answered, his voice soft with wonder. "Why...that was a golem. A golem with blades. Wasn't he magnificent? The construction...the elegance...the sheer sharpness of those blades...the work of a master craftsman indeed!"

Raewyn looked at the little harper in horror. "You mean, there wasn't anything inside that thing? It was just a…machine? A dead...thing?"

The gnome hurried on, not noticing Raewyn's revulsion. "We should follow it! I mean... if the portal was still open. Which it's not. But to let it get away before taking a good look at it, why, we're missing out!"

Casavir's voice was thoughtful. "I do not know who sent that golem, but it was attacking the githyanki as well as us. There is a third party at work here."

Raewyn looked at the paladin, the horror fading from her face, grateful for his calm, but more confused than ever.

"So, someone is after the githyanki, and they are after me, and Garius is after me, and possibly Luskan, and one of them or possibly somebody else entirely sent that...horrible thing…." she shuddered again, unreasonably spooked by the idea of the golem.

"We are safe for the present, my lady. We should let Captain Brelaina know what has happened here." Casavir sensed her near panic, and hoped to help her focus on the present.

"Yes, of course. Casavir, would you mind joining me? We'll see the rest of you back at the Flagon."

As the paladin walked beside their leader, he pondered her reaction. He has not seen her so shaken by any of the foes they had encountered so far, and it struck him.

"My lady, I do not wish to distress you, but I could not help but notice you reacted strongly to the golem."

She shrugged sheepishly, her horror seeming foolish now. "I don't know, really. I've always had this...terror of mechanical beasts. One harvest fair when I was, well, I couldn't have been more than six or so, a traveler had a golem of sorts. Nothing like that one, of course—I've never seen anything like that thing—but it was a mechanical man that would walk around, do simple tricks. I thought it was an actor in a costume." She smiled at Casavir, feeling a little silly recounting her childhood fears.

Casavir nodded for her to go on. "Then Bevil told me it was a machine and I was terrified out of my wits. I really don't know why, but I had nightmares about these lifeless mechanical things coming to get me for at least a year. Daeghun was at a loss to help me, though he tried. It went away after a while, but..just seeing that lifeless killing machine…." she shuddered again.

"I think I understand. There is something cold and unnatural in such a thing. Fighting other beings, humans, githyanki, orcs; there is purpose in their eyes, they fight for a reason. Even undead, as vile as they are, bear some stamp of their former existence; they are a perversion of nature, but nature is still evident in them. But a machine is simply…."

"Soulless." Raewyn finished for him.

"Yes. Soulless. It is a chilling thing to face."

"Thank you Casavir."

"For what, my lady?"

"For noticing. For caring enough to ask, and for understanding."

Captain Brelaina at last gave Raewyn passage into the Blacklake District, allowing her to seek the counsel of Aldanon, the aging wizard who held her best hope of unraveling the mystery of the silver shards she bore.

"My lady, I am happy that you will at last be able to pursue your original objective."

"Thanks, Casavir. I am, too, I suppose." Casavir saw trepidation and relief warring over her features. He knew she had chafed at the long delay in gaining access to the wizard, but she seemed hesitant now that access had been granted.

"You are uncertain?"

His question was gentle, offering her the chance to speak her doubts or not as she felt best. She smiled up at her companion. "I guess I am. I mean, I've been frustrated at all the delays, but at the same time, there has been something...simple and straightforward in undertaking the missions McCormick and Brelaina have set before me. Now, I have no idea what I will find, or what I will need to do, or…."

"I understand." They shared a glance, for they both knew he did indeed, understand. "But my lady, do not underestimate yourself. You will find the right path, and you will meet whatever challenge the wizard's answers present."

"Casavir, I wish I had half the confidence in myself that you do. I still feel like I'm just squeaking by, half by making it up as I go, and half by dumb luck." She grinned ruefully. "I don't mean to...that is, I appreciate your support Casavir. I really do."

"Always, my lady. I assume you will want to gather the rest of our companions, will you not? They should all hear what this Aldanon has to say."

The mage Aldanon was not as Raewyn had pictured him. He seemed more like a forgetful, bumbling, if kindhearted neighbor than the powerful mage she expected. He had known a good bit about the shards, though getting him to focus on the topic at hand had taken some coaxing by Raewyn and her companions.

Aldanon had revealed that the shards were, in fact, the remnants of a shattered githyanki silver sword, an item of considerable power and rarity; such rarity in fact that the githyanki employed an elite corps of warriors, Sword Stalkers, whose sole purpose was the recovery of such blades. Aldanon himself had another of the shards, though in another bout of forgetfulness, he could not recall who had given it to him. He was happy to let her take it, in the event she ever found a way to restore the shattered blade.

As Raewyn was beginning to expect, she was left with as many new questions as answers to the old ones. Aldanon was unable to tell her where the sword came from, how it might have been broken, or why the githyanki had only now set out to find the shards.

"But where else can I go for answers, Aldanon?"

"I wish I knew more. Ammon Jerro was the real expert. He actually possessed a silver sword."

"Ammon Jerro? Where can I find him?"

After further discussion, it seemed that the mage whom Aldanon mentioned was a dead end as well, though Aldanon suggested that Jerro may have kept records of what he knew in his private retreat, or as Aldanon called it, his Haven, though he had no notion where that might be. The only further advice he could give was that they might consult the Neverwinter Archives in hopes of finding a clue to either the location of Jerro's Haven, or possibly of his decedents, though Aldanon thought they had left Neverwinter after the war. Aldanon gave Raewyn the name of his contact at the Archives, and warned her that others might be seeking the same information. She and her companions made ready to leave. On impulse, Raewyn stopped and asked him another question.

"What can you tell me about the war?"

"Oh, those were dark, confusing times. So much death and chaos, all brought about by some self-proclaimed 'King of Shadows.' We were told the King of Shadows was not a king at all, but rather a very powerful warlock and summoner of demons."

"What happened?" asked Raewyn, sensing there was more Aldanon wanted to say.

"He invaded Neverwinter decades ago, with an army of demons. Neverwinter sent their forces to confront him. Both armies perished in the battle, and the King of Shadows was never heard from again."

"What became of him?"

"Some rumors suggest that he was defeated and imprisoned by a cabal of mages. Others say that he was dragged away to the Abyss by his own demon servants. Whatever the King of Shadows' fate, I say good riddance."

"I agree, Aldanon. Thank you for your help."

After taking leave of Aldanon, they convinced their escort to accompany them to the archives. Not surprisingly they had, as Aldanon predicted, found the archives under attack by more githyanki and their bladeling henchmen. They dispatched the few that lingered near the entrance, and helped one of the librarians escape the fighting. Before he left, the frightened man told her where to look for the information she sought, and and gave her a magical veil which would help her to gain access to it.

The rest of the githyanki provided little challenge for the companions. Once they could move about safely, Raewyn was able to find the four magical tomes that would open the most secret archives pertaining to the nobility of Neverwinter. Neeshka especially was awed as Raewyn, wearing with the veil the librarian had given her, found secret doors as they proceeded through the massive library, where even her rouge-trained eye saw only plain walls. Once Raewyn had solved all four of the puzzles with considerable help from Grobnar, they headed into the secret archives.

The records of Neverwinter's nobility held no clue as the the location of the haven of Ammon Jerro. What none of them expected, however, was what they discovered about the identity of Ammon Jerro's living relative.

"Shandra Jerro?" Raewyn slapped her forehead. "Why didn't I put it together myself!"

"Sandra? The Highcliff girl with the flammable barn?" Neeshka asked, incredulous.

Khelgar gave a bitter chuckle. "Small world. Hope the lass has forgiven us for the farm burning down."

The rest of her companions looked blank, as Raewyn agreed. "I do not know if Shandra will be pleased to see us. The last time we were at Highcliff, lizard folk burned down her barn practically the moment we met. But we need to get to her at once. The githyanki are probably heading there as we speak."

They left quickly, stopping only briefly at the Flagon to gather supplies and tell Duncan of their destination. They managed to entreat a captain friendly to Captain Brelaina to depart for Highcliff at once. The githyanki had a small lead on them, but Raewyn hoped that by taking ship they might manage to arrive before the gith, and save the unsuspecting farmer.

Khelgar's worry had been well founded. When they arrived in Westcliff, Shandra was not happy to see Raewyn. Unfortunately, before they had been able to calm her, the githyanki arrived. The green-skinned warriors split into two groups, one of which pursued Shandra into the farmhouse. The other came at Raewyn and her companions. By the time they had dealt with both groups, Shandra's house was a smoking ruin, and Shandra herself was furious.

Raewyn tried to talk her down without success. Then Casavir spoke up, and she capitulated. Raewyn, not altogether unfamiliar with the calming nature of the paladin's presence, sent him a speculative glance, but soon they were on their way.

Shandra's calm lasted only until they got settled in the Flagon, then she demanded answers. Raewyn couldn't really blame her; the girl had lost everything. The group gathered around the fire and tried to sort out what to do next.

"All right. So you tracked me down because...why, I'm a Jerro?"

"No, Shandra. We came to save you from the githyanki. They tracked you down because you are a Jerro; they are seeking your grandfather's haven."

"Shandra," Casavir added, "we realize this is difficult, but your life may be in danger. I swear to you, we are trying to protect you, not make more trouble for you."

The girl's demeanor changed suddenly and she spoke almost sheepishly. "Oh. All right, sorry. Guess the whole thing's hard to take all at once."

Raewyn's brow furrowed again as she looked at the paladin, noticing again his effect on Shandra. Apparently she wasn't alone in her observation.

Neeshka muttered to Raewyn under her breath. "Wow. A little paladin charm sure calmed her quick."

Raewyn sent a look of agreement to Neeshka, then sighed. "We are seeking the haven as well, but only because they are."

"So you did all this, just to use me!" Shandra flared.

"That was not our intention, Shandra. Please... hear us out."

Once again she looked to Casavir and seemed to soften. "Oh... well, if you think I'm going to some dark dungeon that used to give me nightmares, well... think again."

"Perhaps we should retire; we all could use the rest. Shandra, I believe Duncan has rooms upstairs." he returned.

"Oh... uh, thanks for the hospitality... uh, Casavir, right? I appreciate it."

"Of course, you have been through a great deal, it is the least we can offer."

"That I can offer, he means." Duncan corrected him. "My inn, you know, always eager to help a lass in distress, we are, here at the Sunken Flagon."

Raewyn watched as Duncan bustled Shandra off to a room, clucking over her like a mother hen. She understood Duncan's making a fuss; he could never resist flirting with a pretty face. But what was with Casavir? She'd never seen him so...friendly. It was true that she and Casavir had become friends, even close friends, but it had taken a long time. Perhaps he was simply responding to Shandra's distress with his natural concern for others. With a sigh, she put the matter from her mind and sought her bed.

She didn't get much sleep however. In what seemed like mere minutes since she closed her eyes, she heard Duncan shouting for help.

"The Flagon is under attack!"


	8. Chapter 8: The Rescue

No matter how useful he might be in tracking Shandra's abductors, Raewyn wanted nothing to do with the sullen and ill-tempered ranger, Bishop. What little Neeshka had been able to discover had done nothing to recommend him, and even though Duncan assured her he would do his part to the best of his ability, but she couldn't help feeling he was trouble. Raewyn had to admit he was attractive, in his way. He had swagger, a certain scruffy good looks, and the kind of bad-boy attitude that many women found undeniably appealing. However, he was also rude, crass, self-absorbed, and she didn't trust him as far as she could throw a cave troll. To be fair, she could sense he'd had a difficult past; he seemed to carry almost as much pain as did Casavir. But where Casavir had turned his pain first to self-destruction, and now, gradually, to determination, Bishop honed it to a razor's edge. He made of it a weapon, and for the most part, he cared little whom it cut. Not surprisingly, he loathed Casavir almost on sight. Even absent her other misgivings about him, that alone was enough for Raewyn to keep him at arm's length.

For the feeling seemed to be mutual. True, Casavir's calling made him less than tolerant of those whose interpretation of right was somewhat more creative than he liked, but this was more. After all, he had come to have a sort of exasperated affection for Neeshka despite her less than honest ways, and merely rolled his eyes when Khelgar went out of his way to create chaos just for the joy of diving into the fray. But with Bishop his loathing was absolute. Casavir swore to himself (though not wholly without doubt), that it was purely because of the other's callous disregard for decency and life, and not because of his obvious lust for Raewyn. To the extent that Bishop's leering after his leader entered into his reasoning, he concluded that it was only that he could expect nothing better from Bishop in affairs of the heart than he did in anything else, and he did have a responsibility to safeguard Raewyn. It was a matter of honor, the well-being of the party, and the cause they fought for, that was all.

But Bishop, as divisive to their group as he was, proved a skilled tracker, and Raewyn had to admit that they could not have rescued Shandra without his aid. Nevertheless, curbing his snipes at the others took a lot of energy, and the tension between him and Casavir in particular wore on her.

They had tracked the githyanki through the tiny town of Ember, defeating a rearguard left by the kidnappers to slow them down. As they wound their way through the hills, Raewyn suppressed a shudder as she remembered Marcus, the boy who had predicted the destruction of Ember with such eerie calm. She hoped that by giving the boy Bishop's knife, she had not set in motion some horrible disaster; she didn't think the child evil, but he gave her the creeps. She sighed. She had not helped the tension between Bishop and Casavir by persuading the former to give the knife to Marcus, either. They had been sniping at each other ever since leaving Neverwinter. She agreed with Casavir that Bishop's attitude towards the terrified villagers was cruel, but he still allowed the ranger bring out the worst in him. Raewyn hoped they'd gotten the worst of it our of their systems, and for a while, it seemed they had.

Paladin and ranger had worked together flawlessly alongside the rest of he group as they had made their way into the githyanki hideout. They faced the sneering Sword Stalker and his minions, defeating them easily. Raewyn had finally found out what the name she kept hearing, '_Kalach-cha_' meant, and the Sword Stalker seemed to confirm that Shandra had been brought to the cave, but the rest of his bluster was, as far as she and her companions could tell, bluster.

Their puzzlement grew as they continued on. Everywhere the githyanki were harried by small flying demons. The creatures were almost cute, looking like toy dragons come to life, but their claws and teeth proved painful, and many of them seemed to have some kind of fire-breath. The group quickly learned to approach them with caution. Several of the gith warriors also seemed to be falling prey to succubi, demonic women with siren-like powers. In a pause between fights, she asked Casavir if he had ever seen such creatures before.

"I have heard of succubi, but no, I have never encountered any. They rarely leave their abyssal domains unless summoned into servitude. But they are strong-willed, and, as you have seen, have many abilities which allow them to ensnare other creatures to their will. If they are in this realm in servitude to another, then it is a powerful mage that commands them. We must be careful."

A little farther into the cave complex, they had found almost a repeat of the events in the assassins' hideout in Neverwinter. In a larger chamber off the main passageway, they found half a dozen githyanki struggling with as many of the demon women, while a few more gith, sorcerers by their robes, traded spells with another mage. They could not see him clearly, but his face glowed with eldritch markings. And beside the mage was another of the blade golems.

Neeshka, Grobnar and Elanee made short work of the enthralled githyanki, while Bishop and Khelgar challenged the githyanki sorcerers. Raewyn gestured to Casavir to follow her, and together they approached the golem and the other mage. As they drew near the metallic giant, Casavir looked a question at Raewyn, and she nodded with a small smile. Yes, she could face the golem, but Casavir's concern steadied her nerves nevertheless.

As they neared the golem however, Raewyn noticed that while the mage seemed to be directing the demons, he was ignoring the golem, while the golem did nothing. She had no more time to ponder this mystery as a volley of spells and another batch of the miniature dragons reached them. The archers had finished with the enthralled gith, and began targeting the flying creatures, but their arrows missed as often as they hit, for the creatures seemed to shift in and out of solidity. "The mage! Stop him!" Raewyn called. Before any of them could reach him, he vanished. She turned and saw Bishop and Elanee in her badger form taking down the last of the gith mages, and Casavir, now with Khelgar beside him, deliver the final blow to the other sorcerer.

Grobnar gazed up at beside the construct, his small hands caressing the metal plates and vicious-looking blades like it was a long-lost friend. Raewyn gave a small shudder, and went to see if any of the rest could help her decipher the puzzle of who was fighting for whom.

"So, in other words, it seems we have three sides here? The githyanki, the sorcerer with the demon harem, and whoever keeps sending these metal monsters?"

Neeshka snickered at her description, while Casavir nodded soberly.

"It seems so, my lady. According to the Sword Stalker, Aldanon seems to have been correct about your silver shards being the remnants of a gith blade." Casavir's tone indicated some surprise on this point, and Raewyn smiled in agreement with that sentiment. "So we know they are the reason the gith pursue you. It is not clear why they seem to think you personally responsible for the theft or destruction of the blade, or why they chose to take the shards by force, but clearly that is what we face."

"I agree."replied Raewyn. "But it doesn't make much sense, does it? I wasn't even alive when the sword was taken. And I don't want the wretched things anyway. They could have just asked, but instead they all but destroyed West Harbor looking for the shard, when none of us even knew what the damned thing was was." She took a breath to refocus before her anger got the better of her. "But what about the demons?"

"Yes, that question remains unanswered." replied the paladin thoughtfully. "It seems clear that the gith and the mage Black Garius are not working in accord, but we have no way of knowing if Garius is responsible for the demons or the golem—if either—though it seems likely to be one or the other. Nor are we certain of Garius' own aims in this, or how his connection with Luskan enters into it. It is entirely possible that he himself desires the shards, but we have no way of knowing why, or even with certainty that is indeed his aim. The third player seems to be entirely a mystery."

Raewyn threw her hands in the air. "It seems for every answer I do find, I get three more questions to keep it company!"

Khelgar shook his head. "Lass, when I said it was better to let yer enemies come to you, you might not have taken me quite so literally."

Raewyn smiled in spite of herself. "Have even you had your fill of foes, my friend? Me, too." She put a hand on the dwarf's shoulder.

"I must say, princess, you really know how to keep things interesting." drawled Bishop. "I haven't had this much fun in years. Well, during the day, anyway. But if you want to see if you can set a new high at night, too..."

"Bishop! Hold your tongue!" snapped Casavir, rising to stare down the ranger, who remained infuriatingly unperturbed by this show.

"Oh, but I think that's her job…." the shorter man taunted, gesturing at Raewyn.

"Stop it, you two!" Raewyn stepped between them feeling a little like she had placed herself between a rock and a thunderstorm, but heartily sick of their fighting. "Casavir, I can defend myself!" she cringed inwardly as she saw the hurt flash over his features. "And Bishop, don't think for a second I can't or won't render you entirely unable to deliver on any such innuendo!" The ranger only grinned wider at her threat, and she rolled her eyes. "Now, back off, both of you! We have work to do."

With that, she picked up her gear, and made ready to continue on. She felt bad about the hurt she had caused Casavir, but she was irritated with him as well as Bishop. The ranger would be as he was; she knew instinctively that he would always bait and torment anyone who would respond to it. But it galled her that Casavir seemed unable to see his manipulations for what they were, but instead never failed to lunge for whatever bait the ranger threw out. She knew Casavir was smarter than that. She supposed she had begun to rely on him to help keep the peace in the party, and it bothered her that he seemed blind to the way Bishop constantly goaded him into responding. With another sigh, she put it from her mind as they pressed on. They met little further resistance, and finally found themselves at a large door, its iron reinforcements ornately wrought.

"This seems to be the place. Is everyone ready and focused?" She didn't look at any of them, but Casavir looked down, embarrassed, and Bishop only gave a feral grin.

As Raewyn stared down Zeeaire, she realized she was exhausted. The previous fights, each of which were strenuous in their own right, had begun to wear on her. The devil Mephasm had been a wholly unexpected encounter, and she had been surprised at his urbane manner, even as she was relieved they had not had to fight the immensely powerful being. Fighting that great hulking demon-beast Zaxis and another mini-harem of demonesses had been more than challenge enough and had taken almost her last ounce of willpower. The longer she stood here, listening to Zeeaire's raving, the more her body ached. All she wanted was Shandra's safe return, but the crazed priestess before her kept on about her crimes, until Raewyn was ready to throw the lot of the shards at her head if only to make her stop yammering. And, if she was honest with herself, she was getting very, very tired of being chased, ranted at, and accused by githyanki.

Apparently, Zeeaire had grown tired of her as well. She made a powerful gesture, and with a few muttered words and a loud whoosh, the shards Raewyn had been carrying appeared in the air in front of her, before floating toward the shimmering portal where Zeeaire stood.

"Did you really think you could keep such relics of my people? They do not belong to you." the gith hissed. Then she cocked her head to one side, sounding puzzled. "Odd, I have all the ones you carry... yet it seems you still possess one."

She made another gesture, and Raewyn felt herself rise from the ground as agony exploded in her chest. She gave a strangled cry and struggled weakly against the tearing pain that held her aloft. She was dimly aware of Casavir and Khelgar moving toward her, yelling for Zeeaire to stop, then brightness blinded her to all else.

"You have a piece of the Sword inside of you." cried the gith in furious triumph, and her scratching speech reverberated in Raewyn's mind. "And I shall remove it from you - by force."

Casavir and Khelgar reached Raewyn and dragged her away from the seething githyanki. In doing so they seemed to break her concentration, for the light and pain which bound her faded. She staggered to her feet again, just as the guards surrounding the room charged at the companions.

"My lady…." Casavir began, his voice thick with worry.

"I'm fine - help the others." She drew her own blade and entered the fray. As she beat down another of the seemingly unending supply of guards, she noticed Zeeaire was not attacking, and that her companion's spells did not reach her. Understanding dawned, and she yelled for the others to follow her.

"The stones, they give power to her portal! Take them down!"

Those of her friends who had dispatched their foes did as she asked and moments later, as the last of the stone spires crumbled, the shimmering bubble of light surrounding Zeeaire faded, and the githyanki sank to the stones. Raewyn knelt beside her, seeing that she would not live long.

"We could have resolved this without fighting, but you brought this on yourself. Why?" Raewyn demanded.

"We were never the ones you had to fear. In defying us, you have harmed your own people - and everything on your plane. The Lich Queen will know of my fall... yes... but it will be too late." the now feeble gith coughed weakly. "What comes for you will be revenge enough."

"And what comes for me? How have I harmed my people?"

"Evil wakes, _Kalach-Cha_, and in killing me, you now stand alone against it. The shards you carry were needed... the shard in you - all are needed." she coughed again, weaker this time. "An ancient enemy comes for you, one that has existed for millennia. You have already felt the effects of his presence, and he will grow stronger with time."

"But all you had to do was ask! We could have worked together, why did you attack?"

But Zeeaire did not seem to hear her question. "The githyanki will strike at you no longer; this was the last of our strongholds devoted to the recovery of the shards. There will be no more attacks from my people, because it will serve no purpose. You have sealed your fate. This enemy, this King of Shadows... if he succeeds in his plans, your civilization will become dust, and all life will be consumed by darkness. I will see you in death, _Kalach-Cha_. I do not think I... will have to wait long." She gave a last shuddering breath and was gone.

Raewyn knelt a long time beside her, weighed down by the dying priestess' words and the futility of the githyanki's choices. At length she heaved a weary sigh and rose. Looking around, she saw Shandra in a small cage off to one side of the room. She quickly crossed to it, knocked off the rusted lock, and opened the door, reaching in to help Shandra out. The girl stepped out a little unsteadily.

"I'm getting so tired of this" Shandra said with a rueful smile. "You have to let me save you sometime, or else I'll never be able to pay you back." Raewyn smiled at her jest, but behind her, Bishop cut in.

"There'll be plenty of time for you to pay all of us on the way back to Neverwinter." he wagged his brows suggestively, and Raewyn rolled her eyes, feeling a headache forming on top of her weariness.

Shandra's eyes narrowed in anger. "You all put me in danger! I'm not paying you a single coin."

"Then you'll be paying me another way" the ranger leered at her. "My bedroll's a little cold at night; I'm thinking you can fix that." As she knew he would, Casavir drew breath to protest, but for once, Khelgar beat him to it.

"Maybe you'd best shut your mouth, ranger. Your words are starting to anger me."

Bishop turned to the dwarf and sneered. "Oh, really, what a surprise. How'd you like it if I left you here in Luskan territory with your righteousness to keep you company?"

"If you don't watch your tongue, Bishop, I'm cutting it out." Raewyn hoped he'd let it go for once, but the ranger just grinned.

"Jealousy's thick in this little band, I see." He stepped close to her and ran his eyes up and down her form, and Raewyn felt her face go hot at his openly sexual appreciation of her. "Don't worry, I haven't forgotten your pretty face, fair leader."

Casavir put himself between them, his presence forcing the ranger to step backwards. "I won't have you speaking to her or anyone else that way, Bishop." As weary as she was of having Casavir rise to the ranger's bait, Raewyn hadn't the energy to put Bishop in his place, and was happy to let Casavir defend her this time.

Bishop stared down the taller man before backing down. "Perhaps my words were ill-chosen, just like this journey. Now that we have our precious little treasure, shall we go?"

The band made their way out of the cavern in silence. Casavir was fuming and Bishop sullen, and Shandra was still a little shellshocked. Raewyn found herself preoccupied by the githyanki priestess's final words, and the shard she now knew lay within her felt heavy and cold, more like a fragment of ice in her chest than metal. They traveled back down out of the hills before making camp, and Raewyn found that once they had settled around a crackling fire, she was somewhat cheered, though weariness still clung to her like a cloak. She sat sleepily watching her companions, warmed by their talking and joking, until her gaze fell on Bishop.

She turned her thoughts to the problem he presented. She was forced to admit that she was somewhat attracted to him. There was something in his mocking confidence that was intriguing, even a little thrilling. He gave off a raw and predatory sexuality. It was obvious he desired her, and that made it difficult to keep her imagination from painting some very erotic pictures when he pinned her with those wolfish eyes and made such blatant innuendoes. But that didn't mean she liked him. His desire was tinged with something dark and angry. She felt some sympathy for him; if she looked closely she could see the pain and loneliness just beneath his swagger, though she knew he would not thank her to say so. Nevertheless, his arrogance and coarse manners repelled her.

She looked over to Casavir then, and her heart skipped a beat as it did every time she looked at him. He lacked the heady wildness that the ranger possessed, but in Casavir she sensed a deep and powerfully passionate nature, held tightly in check. She knew her companions often found him cold and even one dimensional, but she didn't see him that way. Their conversations had shown her warmth, a keen intellect, and an equally sharp, though subtle wit. And of course, she had watched him fight, seen his power and strength, witnessed his ferocity. She shivered every time she imagined what that powerful passion would be like if he ever set it free. It was something she had been unable to stop herself from imagining more often recently.

She was beginning to enjoy the distraction from her worries that assessment of the men before her provided. With a quick glance around the campsite, she happily resumed her comparison. Clearly both men had charisma and a deeply visceral, if very different appeal. What of looks then, she pondered. The ranger was slender, compact, his musculature sleek and trim. Years of living in the wild and training with a bow had sculpted his arms and shoulders, and he had a languid, catlike grace about him. He was handsome, his exotic golden eyes and dark lashes a startling contrast to his tanned skin and scruffy brown hair, and the rugged unshaven look he favored suited his personality. His lips suggested softness, but were too often curled in a sneer for her easily to imagine kissing them. There was a certain honeyed burr in his voice, especially when his eyes bored into her with a suggestive comment, that gave her a shiver, but more usually his voice was marred by scorn or bitterness.

Again she looked back to Casavir, trying to assess him objectively, something she found difficult given her affection for the paladin. He was tall, having almost a head above the ranger, broad-shouldered and elegantly built. He had his own grace, different from the lithe, feline quickness of the ranger; more like the majestic and powerful grace of a well-trained warhorse. Casavir was handsome as well, his high cheekbones and arched brows giving him a noble air. His mouth was wide and expressive when he allowed it to be, and she thought his lips looked soft and sensuous, made for kissing. His eyes….Raewyn closed her own eyes to recall Casavir's better. Bottomless pools of blue, that seemed to change with his mood, from chips of icy diamond when he was angry to the shade of a summer sky when he was relaxed. And in gentler moments, when filled with his caring and concern for her, his eyes deepened to a dusky sapphire she could drown in.

She opened her eyes to look again as she heard Casavir's voice. His voice was deep, as deep as the passion she sensed lay within him. When he spoke sharply, his powerful voice could, she thought, stop a person in their tracks. And when he spoke softly, as she had so far heard him do only to her, it rumbled with a timbre that set off an answering vibration deep inside her. She mused that if she were to imagine Bishop's voice in the heat of passion it would still be underlaid by derision and sarcasm; he wouldn't ever let slip his control enough to be truly lost, even in passion. But Casavir's voice lost in passion…she shivered again as she imagined his deep voice growling endearments in her ear.

With effort, she set aside that enticing image, chiding herself for letting her fancies carry her away like that. She realized she had been staring at Casavir at the same instant she realized he was also staring at her curiously. She felt her face flame and she looked away, wondering how much of her thoughts had been written across her face.

As Casavir bedded down for the night, he wondered what Raewyn had been thinking. He had noticed her staring at him with an oddly avid expression, as though her thoughts were elsewhere, but of great import. But then she seemed to realize he was looking, and she flushed, and had not met his eyes again. They had not spoken since leaving the gith lair, the tension between himself and he ranger seeming to have encompassed her as well.

_"Casavir, I can defend myself!" _His heart twisted as he heard again her sharp protest in his memory. She had reprimanded Bishop as well, then and later, when he had all but coerced Shandra before propositioning Raewyn next. But Casavir had seen how her cheeks had flushed at the ranger's words, and it gnawed at him. He thought she held the ranger's coarse manner in he same disdain he did, but suddenly he was not sure. Was Bishop correct to assume that her sharpness at his advances toward Shandra had been jealousy? Certainly not. His thoughts remained troubled as he drifted to sleep at last.

_Casavir was dreaming, the same dream he'd dreamt over and over, since his first flight from Neverwinter. His feet made no sound on the thick carpeting lining the halls of the Moonstone Mask. The familiar walls with their brocades and tapestries now seemed sinister, the leaping shadows of the torchlight making shapes writhe upon the walls. The looming shapes couldn't subdue the spring in his steps, however. He was here to see his love. He looked at the bundle of flowers he carried; Carenthan lilies, her favorite. She didn't know he was coming. He wanted to surprise her with the lilies, and if he could summon up the courage, he intended to ask her to be his betrothed. _

_The dreamer fought against his dream self, pleading with him to stop, to leave. His dream self reached the end of the hall, and his hand reached for the doorknob. The dreamer's will screams for him not to open the door, for he knows what his dream self will find. Beyond that door lies only betrayal. He's dreamt this dream before, a hundred times, and he fears his heart cannot take the pain yet again. _

_As he stepped into the room, he saw Raewyn perched on the edge of the ornate desk, her skirt up around her hips, locked in a passionate embrace with a man whose face Casavir could not see. He stepped into the room, and both its occupants looked up at him in shock. _

_"Casavir! What are you doing here?" Raewyn asked him. _

_"Get away from her, you filthy dog!" Casavir bellowed the moment he saw the other man's face. It was Bishop. _

_"So this is your new plaything?" drawled the ranger. "I do hope he won't be tiresome."_

_Raewyn giggled. "Let's see, Bishop my darling. Casavir, pet, why are you here?"_

_Casavir's fist clenched, the lilies he'd been carrying crushed to scraps, and pain arcing through his chest like a blade._

_"My lady, I….I came to ask your hand in betrothal. I...I love you."_

_"Oh, how quaint." sneered Bishop. "You should never have trifled with a paladin, my pretty, they are so frightfully dull."_

_Raewyn laughed again. "Now, now, love. he did show promise." Still giggling, she turning back to Casavir. "Darling, you didn't really think I'd marry you! You can't have been that naive, can you, Casavir? How foolish, you are, Casavir!"_

_Casavir only stared at her, his features drawn with pain, unable to speak._

_His silence drew only laughter from the pair. He covered his ears, begging them to stop, but they only laughed louder, until the sound echoed, and the room began to distort, the shadows from the hall cavorting around him, making the walls seem to twist and bend. He fell to his knees as the faces of his tormentors too began to distort, their laughing faces becoming demonic and their laughter turning to shrieks….._

"Casavir! Wake up, Casavir!"

Casavir sat bolt upright with a sharp cry, only to find Raewyn kneeling next to his bedroll, her hands gripping his shoulders, her brow furrowed with concern.

"Casavir, it's alright. It's only a nightmare. You're safe, relax."

He looked at her, disoriented, the dream images bleeding into waking as he looked into her face again. He shook his head, seeing the concern in her eyes. He looked away, deeply disturbed. He had had that same dream over and over, but never quite like that.

"I am well, my lady." he croaked out. He drew breath and started again, stronger. "I am sorry I troubled you."

"Casavir, are you sure you are alright? Do you want to talk about it?"

He glanced at her in horror. "No! No, it is nothing that should concern you."

"If you are sure. My foster father always told me that if you share a nightmare, it can no longer haunt you. If you change your mind…." She was worried by the wild look in his eyes. It was unlike the paladin to be so unsettled.

"Thank you my lady. It is nothing. I shall take the next watch."

She nodded, recognizing that he would speak no more of it until he was ready. She returned to her bedroll as Casavir settled near the embers of the fire for his watch. She lay watching him, but she did not find much sleep again that night.

By the next day, despite the knowledge that she had a long road ahead, and the constant tension between Casavir and Bishop, Raewyn was almost happy as they headed back to Neverwinter once more. She was concerned about the paladin; the nightmares she thought he had left behind with Old Owl Well seemed to have returned to plague him again, and she wondered if the return of his dreams had something to do with the ranger. He had seemed to relax since they had met, but since Shandra's abduction and Bishop joining them, it seemed his tense formality and habitual scowl had returned. She sighed. She knew Casavir was an intensely private person, and until he was ready to speak of it, she could do little about it.

Meanwhile, though, she had been enjoying getting to know Shandra, finding her to have a warm frankness mixed with a caustic wit that Raewyn appreciated. With the exception of Bishop, her friends and companions were getting along, and they were traveling through beautiful country, though the last day had been hotter, and the road dustier than she would have preferred.

Consequently, the sweaty and dust-grimed band chose to halt at a small, tree-ringed clearing overlooking a sparkling lake. Raewyn was almost gleeful at the prospect of a bath. As each of them settled into camp in the thick shade, Raewyn pulled a clean shift and light overdress out of her pack, grabbed the water skin and headed down to the lake.

Khelgar, seeing her intent, teased her.

"Are you sure you're not half selkie, lass? You're jumping intae every puddle we come to!"

"You could stand a bit of a wash yourself, shorty." came Neeshka's jibe.

Laughing, Raewyn called over her shoulder "I can't be sure Khelgar, but I am fairly certain she just told you to go jump in a lake!"

The dwarf's comeback was lost as she left the clearing, still chuckling. She picked her way down the path that ran beneath the clearing to the stony shore, humming happily to herself. She stepped through a break in the trees and stopped short, her mouth falling open.

Casavir had gotten here before her, and evidently had already finished bathing. He was, in fact, just now striding up the pebbled lakeshore, water sheeting from his body. She stood rooted to the spot, unable to tear her gaze from his sculpted form, greedily filling in the details her musings had lacked the previous night. She drank in the sight of his wide shoulders and powerful arms, developed by years of wielding sword and hammer. Her eyes roamed his strongly muscled chest, its smooth surface broken here and there by silvered marks of old scars, and her fingers ached to trace each one. The planes of his flat stomach tapered into narrow hips, and a few more scars marked his long, chiseled legs. Her gaze traveled shamelessly down the faint line of hair trailing down from his navel to where his manhood sprang from a small cluster of dark hair.

He was magnificent. The water streaming down his skin sparkled in the sun, and flashed like diamonds in his black curls. She could imagine the taste of water on his skin, and could almost feel him beneath her hands, slick with moisture and cool from the lake. She knew she should turn and flee, but she yearned to cross the distance between them and see if her imaginings could possibly rival the reality of touching him, tasting him. She was powerless to do either, powerless to move, powerless to do anything but devour him with her gaze.

He bent and reached for a towel, wrapping it loosely around his hips as he turned to hang his sodden clothes to dry on a nearby branch. It was then he saw her.

"My Lady…." he trailed off, seeing the naked longing in her eyes. Swallowing hard and willing his body not to respond, he croaked out "my pardon. Is there…. something you…" he swallowed again "…wish of me?"

Her eyes flew up to his and she felt herself flush as she realized he was perfectly aware that she had been staring unabashedly and with considerable hunger at his nakedness.

"I…I…" she stammered, gesturing with the water skin, her face crimson. "I was….water…I can….uh...later…."

With that, her feet were finally free, and she turned and fled back up the hill. She burst back into the the clearing before stopping to think that returning to her companions dry, unbathed and utterly flustered was a poor idea. Khlegar looked up at her in astonishment.

"What's the matter? You look like ye've swallowed a toad, lass!"

"I….I stubbed my toe." she offered, cringing at how ridiculous that sounded. "I'll bathe later."

Casavir did not rejoin them for some time, and when he did return, she slipped away before he saw her, heading back to the lake for her overdue ablutions. She had been totally distracted, alternating between giddiness and mortification since her return to the campsite. She had dropped things, burst into nervous giggles, and stammered every few minutes. She was sure her friends thought she'd lost her mind. She hoped a long and strenuous swim in the cold water of the lake would help cool her embarrassment, and maybe even exhaust her enough to sleep despite the glowing image of Casavir burned into her mind. As she slipped into the bone chillingly cold water, however, she had the distinct feeling she would not be sleeping well this night, or for many more to come.

Raewyn didn't come near him much of the next day, and for a change, Casavir didn't seek her out. He had been a roiling mass of confused emotion since the incident beside the lake, especially coming hard on the heels of his dream and his doubts about Bishop at the githyanki lair. He couldn't seem to get his thoughts in order. One the one hand, he felt a thrill run through him when he recalled the flare of desire in Raewyn's eyes as she had stood watching him. He knew they shared a bond of friendship and affection, but the notion that Raewyn might feel more for him, might desire him made him feel strong enough to move mountains, and he wanted to shout to the heavens.

On the other, he berated himself for such vanity, and for even allowing such thoughts to enter his mind. If Casavir had learned one thing in his life, it was that powerful emotions blinded a man to what must be done. It was a failing with which he was intimately familiar, and now, having found something truly worth doing, he was not about to let himself be blinded or conflicted again. Raewyn had given him hope, and a sense of purpose, and he would die before he failed her, and the feelings she had begun to stir in him could lead, he felt certain, only to disaster.

Casavir thought of his dream as well. He'd dreamt it hundreds, perhaps a thousand times in the shadows of the Sword Mountains. It was the penance he could never lay down, their voices the accusation that would not be silenced, no matter the carnage he wrought, no matter the lives he took or the lives he saved. Yet when Raewyn had taken him into her company, the dream had stopped. The penance had been lifted, the mocking voices had gone silent.

And then the ranger had joined them, all lust and swagger, and it was obvious that he wanted Raewyn. She had rejected him so far, but he recalled her blush in the lair. Casavir knew men like Bishop. He would not relent, he would worry at her refusal like a dog worrying a bone until it cracked to reveal the marrow within. Raewyn was a young, beautiful woman, who had no reason to live her life as a monk. Yet the thought of her yielding to the ranger's advances made him want to roar with rage, his anguish at that thought as powerful as his exhilaration at the memory of her longing eyes.

In his musings he had fallen a little behind the group, and Raewyn came trotting back to him. "There you are, Casavir! I…."

"What?" he snapped, then at the look of hurt on her face, he relented. He closed his eyes a moment and drew a breath to steady himself. "I am sorry, my lady, I was lost in thought just now. Did you need something?"

She looked askance at him, but merely answered quietly. "We're stopping at that rise up ahead. I just wanted to let you know."

"Thank you. I apologize again for my ire."

"It is nothing, truly. But are you alright?"

He thought briefly, then made a decision. He answered her question with one of his own. "Do you have a moment? There is something I want to speak with you about."

"Of course. What it is?" She fell into step beside him.

"That man who we have taken on with us, Bishop. I do not trust him, and I do not like the way he looks at you."

"Why, Casavir," she turned a mischievous grin at him. "are you jealous?"

He stiffened as if she had struck him. "It is not jealousy, it is concern. Forgive me, it is not my affair, I only felt... compelled to warn you."

Raewyn cursed inwardly. Of course he would clam up if she suggested such a thing. She was clearly still giddy from yesterday. She put her hand on his arm, all seriousness, willing him to forgive her flippant comment. "I'm sorry, Casavir, I did not mean to make light of your words. But believe me, I am aware of Bishop's nature. In fact, had Neeshka do a little digging into his past even before he joined us." The paladin raised an eyebrow at that. "I know he has suffered much, but I also know he has made some very dark choices. I do not really like having him with us, but I am afraid we need his skills at present. And I suppose if he is a threat, I'd rather have him where we can keep an eye on him…."

He was pleased that she seemed to be as cautious about the ranger as he was, but his demeanor remained formal, seeming almost embarrassed. "Very well, only watch yourself - he is manipulative and dangerous."

"I will, I promise. And thank you, it is good to know you are looking out for me."

He was reassured by her words, but feared he had overplayed his hand. He was determined that his relationship with Raewyn would remain professional, no matter how it pained him.


	9. Chapter 9: New Companions

The next day's travel brought them back to the Flagon at last. Duncan was happy to see their safe return, and made much over them, Shandra in particular. Once they'd gotten settled and bathed, Duncan laid out a big meal, and the talk turned to Shandra's future and Raewyn's past.

"Lass, I'm so happy to see you back here in one piece" Duncan said with a smile as things quieted down.

"Actually, I discovered I have an extra piece inside" Raewyn joked, though smile didn't reach her eyes. "There is a shard lodged within me. I need to talk to you about this wound I received when I was a child."

Duncan's eyes grew wide, and he seemed at a loss for words.

"Duncan, I understand you felt it wasn't your place to tell me if Daeghun had chosen not to, but I need to to know about this shard."

"All right, then... when the King of Shadows attacked West Harbor long ago, that's when it must have happened…" he told her everything he knew. "...so you were the only survivor. We found your mother cradling you. The shard must have passed through her body and lodged in your chest. I don't know if he knew that the wound was from a shard or not. In any case, Daeghun must have felt it was too much to tell you."

"Thank you Duncan, for telling me now, though we still know so little of how the sword got there or was broken."

"It's been with me for a long time... I am glad I could finally speak of it." her uncle replied, giving her a quick hug.

"Ah... notice the stumble in his words." Bishop's mocking words came from behind her. "Your uncle has been keeping secrets, I think."

"Silence, Bishop." came Casavir's retort, before Raewyn had a chance to draw a breath. "We don't need any more of your help."

The ranger didn't bother looking at him. "Ah, why don't you let our leader speak for herself, 'paladin,' without you speaking for her, eh?"

"Bishop, Casavir has spoken exactly as I would have, and he knows it. This is not your concern. Speaking of which, thank for your assistance, but you may consider your debt discharged."

"Actually, since you mention it, I've decided it would be in both our interests if I stay on with you."

"What? Why?" Raewyn had been certain he'd be only too happy to see the last of them, and for all his skill, she wanted him gone.

"Does a man need a reason? Come now." His mocking tone belied his seemingly friendly words. "Duncan's kind request was enough to start this, I think, why not finish it? Besides, traveling with you is the most fun I've had in years."

Beside Raewyn, Duncan stood to address the ranger. "No, no. There's no need, Bishop. I'm sorry for before, but you've done more than…"

Bishop was not dissuaded. "Oh, come now, Duncan, I still owe you. And what better way to make it up to you than watching your kin here?" He turned a cold gaze on Raewyn. "After all, a debt is a debt...all the way until the end. Isn't that right?"

Raewyn looked to each of her companions. None of them seemed too enthusiastic about Bishop's continued presence, but she couldn't see how to dissuade him if he chose to hang around. She looked apologetically at Casavir, her eyes begging him to understand.

"Fine, whatever." She took a sip of her wine and massaged her temples, feeling a ranger-shaped headache looming. Shandra spoke up then "I hate to ask...but what happens now? I can't go back to my farm, ashes and all."

Duncan answered at once "Well, I'd be more than happy to offer the lass my hospitality, but don't you need her to unlock Ammon Jerro's Haven?"

At Shandra's look of horror, Raewyn hastened to reassure her. "We hope that is something you will be willing to help us with, yes, but you must choose your path. You may stay here, or you may join us."

"Well... I know enough to use a sword and can handle myself in a fight. I mean, I'm no spell caster, but if you need an extra blade…."

Casavir nodded. "If Shandra agrees to travel with us, the danger might be greater than within Neverwinter's walls, but that is not certain."

Khelgar nodded gruffly "If she's going to be with us, she'll need to do some catching up... we can't just keep on rescuing her all the time."

Shandra looked offended. "Rescuing me? I can rescue myself! Sometimes, when there's not too many lizard-folk. Or githyanki." she subsided then. "Alright, I admit, you've rescued me twice now. And if you're going to help teach me to survive these attacks, I accept." She smiled at Khelgar before turning to Raewyn with determination. "But there's some things you're going to have to accept, too. I don't like being left behind. Because whenever you're out of my sight, suddenly all this trouble starts happening, and I'm really tired of it." Her voice grew quiet then. "So... look, I won't try to get in your way or anything, but I don't want us to part ways again. I've... I've, well, lost too much already. You're not leaving me behind. All right?"

"We welcome your sword and your company, Shandra."

"Then that's all I ask."

"Well, it's settled then" announced Raewyn. The group shared toasts all around, and Grobnar broke out his lute and started in on a set of merry tunes. Raewyn remained troubled, however, and retreated to a table a bit away from her friends.

From there she watched them, feeling both the boon of their loyalty, and the weight of responsibility each of them brought. Could she send one of them to their death in battle? If one of them fell, could she live with it? She sighed. She supposed she'd find out when the time came. And then there was Bishop. She had been counting on his taking off the moment they hit Neverwinter, and his continued presence did not sit well with her. She still felt that there was a better man somewhere inside him, but she didn't trust him. And honestly, helping that better man emerge was not something she considered worth risking her mission or the lives of her comrades. There had been something in his eyes, and in his voice when he spoke of debt that filled her with apprehension. And of course, she was not at all looking forward to more verbal sparring between him and Casavir.

She thought that whatever rift appeared between herself and Casavir at the gith lair had begun to close as they had neared Neverwinter, but the distance remained. She missed their long talks, and the ease they had begun to feel with each other. That was before Bishop's arrival; since then, he had withdrawn again, perhaps not as much as before, but she felt the loss. She missed him. She considered their conversation about the ranger. Raewyn had been touched by his concern, but once again confused by his hasty retreat into claiming it was none of his affair. She longed for a glimpse behind the paladin's enigmatic demeanor. At that thought, her eyes sought him.

She saw he was sitting and talking with Shandra. Truthfully, Shandra was doing most of the talking, but then Casavir said something and she laughed before continuing with what she was saying. Raewyn's chest felt tight suddenly, and she rose abruptly, her chair screeching loudly against the floor, and left the room.

Casavir looked across the room at the sudden sound, and saw Raewyn leaving, hurrying around the corner. He had utterly forgotten what Shandra was saying. It was unlike Raewyn to stalk out like that, and the paladin was concerned.

"Casavir?" He turned back to Shandra. "You might try a really novel approach. Like, maybe, talking to her?"

He stared at the former farmer, not understanding. She sighed.

"Casavir, anybody with eyes can tell that girl really cares for you. And you don't even need that much to see you care for her. But you've barely spoken to her since...well, at all that I can see. And every time that jerk" she thumbed over her shoulder at the ranger "makes some awful play for her, you go all thundercloud and retreat. Now we find out he's here to stay, and you're over here, laughing it up with me. How do you suppose that makes her feel?"

"I…" He struggled for words. "She has much to concern her, and she will ask if she requires me. I do not know what she wants…."

"Don't you?" Shandra looked him right in the eye and dared him to deny it. He shifted uncomfortably under her stare. She sighed and tried a different approach. "Casavir, do you know what your problem is?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"You're problem is that you are at war with yourself. You are a regular 'house divided,' and you know how _that_ always ends."

"A house divided? What do you mean by that?"

"Look, I don't know you very well, so I can't really offend you...I hope. So I'm going to be blunt. You are a paladin, and a good one." she waved away his half formed objection. "No, no, you are, it's like a big sign over your head that says 'goodness.' Trust me, it's a little disconcerting, really." Both eyebrows flew upward at that.

"Anyway, you are also, in case you've forgotten, a man, and if I am any judge of character—which I am; I've thrown in with you lot, after all…" she paused for breath, and Casavir regarded her with considerable bemusement.

"Anyway, if I'm any judge of character, you are a very passionate man. Deep emotions, huge heart, still waters run deep, that kind of thing. But you have this idea that you can't be both, so you're always at war with yourself over it. But Casavir, all you're gonna do is kill yourself that way. If you weren't a passionate person, how could you be so dedicated, so...paladin? That takes a level of passion most people, including you apparently, can't begin to comprehend. So stop trying to choke off what makes you...you!"

"But…." he began.

"Listen, Bishop's an ass, and believe me when I say Raewyn sees that as well as you do. But the man's got fire. Come the middle of the night, even a girl like Raewyn's gonna want some heat, not just cold armor…."

Casavir drew himself up a bit, Shandra's words coming far too close to his own recent thoughts about the ranger and his pursuit of Raewyn. "What my lady...wants...in that regard...is her concern, and not my business. But I thank you for your words. You have given me much to think about."

Shandra just smiled, shaking her head. Not his business! Men were idiots, she decided, not for the first time in her life. "Go ahead and do that, but I suggest you have a word with our leader before you settle in for that 'think.'" She chuckled as she watched him go, hoping he was looking for Raewyn. She really didn't want Bishop to succeed; the ranger gave her the creeps.

When Raewyn had fled from the Sunken Flagon, she had had no destination in mind. She just needed to get away, finding herself unable to sit to the side watching Casavir talking so easily with Shandra, particularly when she had been feeling estranged from him, and missing his company and conversation. Now Raewyn stood by on the dockside, the chill wind from the ocean tugging at her hair. She was cold, but she welcomed the chill, hoping to cool the heated confusion inside her.

She had no claim on Casavir, and she must force herself to accept that fact. One night's fanciful imaginings, even topped by an accidental eyeful, didn't mean he saw her as anything but a leader, nor that he ever would. She wasn't even entirely certain what she felt about him. She was attracted to him, certainly; she'd established that much the other night. And she cherished his loyalty, his kindness, his friendship. She didn't know how she would continue on if he was no longer at her side. Even though she knew little of love, she knew it would be a mistake, if an easy one, to confuse those things with love. Then why had she felt like she couldn't breathe back at the Flagon?

Wanting to understand, she forced herself to imagine Casavir loving someone, anyone. She built the image in her mind of him embracing a woman, kissing her, smiling at her. She gasped at the sudden surge of agony that filled her, and she pushed at the pain like at a sore tooth, exploring the sensation. In minutes she was on her knees weeping, the pain at her imaginings tearing at her as if the shard she bore was twisting inside her. She raised her face to the sea, letting the wind dry her tears.

So. Perhaps she did love the paladin. Was this the pain that seemed to flash across Casavir's face when Bishop made no secret of his desire for her? No, she doubted it. Casavir had never given any indication he thought of her as anything other than a worthy cause. 'Great; I'm a cause, not a person…' she groused to herself. She allowed herself a moment of bitterness at that, before rejecting it as unworthy of the paladin. If he were any different he would not be Casavir. Her Casavir...

"Damn it all to the nine bloody hells!" she shouted into the wind. She cursed her foolishness in even giving time to the thoughts she'd savored a few nights ago; she'd only made things harder on herself with her foolish daydreaming. Whatever her feelings for Casavir, they were simply something she would have to live with. Another burden to be borne, like the shard, like the lives of her companions. Her shoulders sagged, the weariness she'd not quite gotten past since the battle with Zeeaire now flooding her, and she longed only for her bed. Well, not only that, but she resolved not to let herself think that way. She rose and turned her feet back toward the Flagon at last.

Casavir had gone looking for her, and grown worried when she was not at or near the Flagon. He knew that setting out looking was futile; he'd stand as much chance of missing her return as of finding her, so he stationed himself at the door. He remained there as the others finally retired, determined to speak with her. Finally, his patience was rewarded as he saw her walking up from he docks, the wind making her hair dance and her cloak billow out behind her. His heart swelled as he watched her. She was precious to him, more than he had allowed himself to realize.

She spotted him as she neared the inn, coming onto the porch before speaking.

"Casavir." she said, half greeting, half question.

"I was worried my lady. I could not find you."

"I didn't imagine you'd be looking for me." She hated how petty her voice sounded.

Casavir noticed the edge, and cringed a little, remembering Shandra's words. _'... you're over here, laughing it up with me. How do you suppose that makes her feel?' _

"I am sorry, my lady, I did not intend to… I mean, I wasn't…." Why did he have no idea what to say to her?

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Casavir. You may do as you like, after all." Her voice was flat, emotionless, and she didn't look at him. "Now I'm very tired, and I'm going to bed." She pushed past him and was gone before he could muster something to say. Casavir stood mute, castigating himself for his silence, baffled by his sudden inability to communicate.

The following morning, Raewyn came down to the common room feeling sleepy and grumpy. She had not slept, tormented by the tension between herself and Casavir. With the morning's light, she was determined to find the paladin and resolve whatever had happened to strain their friendship. If that meant forcing Bishop to leave, she'd do it.

"Duncan, has Casavir come down yet?" she asked her uncle.

"I haven't seen him, lass."

She went back up and knocked on his door. After waiting a moment she opened the door to find the room empty and the bed undisturbed. She went back down, thinking hard. Where in the nine hells had he gone? Feeling like a jealous shrew, she checked Shandra's room, and found her still asleep, alone. Finally, she could stay at the inn no longer, and Raewyn went walking through the city.

It was nearly dusk before she returned, exhausted and hungry, but more determined than ever to resolve matters between herself and the paladin. As she entered, she saw Elanee and Neeshka talking over dinner. Grobnar sat beside the fire, puttering with his lute, and Khelgar was working with Shandra, showing her some knife-fighting techniques. And Casavir sat in his usual corner. He looked up at her entrance.

She stopped, holding his gaze for a moment. She took a deep breath, and went to sit across from him.

"Casavir, I…

"My lady, I…"

She gave him a wry smile as their words collided, and he gestured for her to speak.

"I am sorry about the way I acted last night. I…."

She was interrupted by a commotion near the door.


	10. Chapter 10: Accused

Raewyn and Casavir both rose to see the cause of the ruckus. Casavir, being taller, had seen the identity of the visitor, and bent to whisper to Raewyn. "That is Sir Nevalle, one of the Neverwinter Nine, Lord Nasher's personal bodyguards. What could he possibly be doing here?"

"Well, I doubt he's here to see Grobnar perform. I suppose we ought to go find out."

With an apologetic look at Casavir for yet another conversation interrupted, she went to greet the man, noting his blue uniform emblazoned with the striking eye emblem of Neverwinter. At her approach, the man, Nevalle, Casavir had called him, looked her up and down before asking "Raewyn Thorne Farlong?"

"Yes. What can we do for you?"

"There you are." Nevalle paused, studying her intently. She crooked an eyebrow at his scrutiny. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I am here because Luskan has accused you of murder." At her stunned expression, he elaborated. "An entire village, no less. Have you heard of Ember?"

"Ember? Oh, gods. I traveled through it, I didn't slaughter it." With a shudder, she thought of Marcus, the eerie little boy they had met in Ember, who had spoken so chillingly of Ember's destruction. "What happened there? All those people…"

She felt her knees go weak and she swayed. Casavir caught her elbow to steady her, and she leaned against him gratefully.

Nevalle resumed, almost apologetically. "I've scraped things from my boot that I respect more than Luskan. But unless we find some means of clearing you of these charges, we will have to surrender you to them. We've signed a treaty with Luskan; they have the right to dispense low justice for any crimes committed on their soil." He paused, clearly not happy with the situation. "But I'm not turning over a loyal member of the Watch to some Luskan dog on this day or any other."

"So how do I prove my innocence?"

"Your guilt is preordained in a Luskan court. If you were a lord, knight, or even a squire, however, then matters would be different. You would be subject to high justice, and your trial would take place here in Neverwinter before Lord Nasher."

"Does serving the Watch not grant me a fair trial? Not even all I've done for Neverwinter..." Nevalle raised a hand, indicating he had more to say, and she bit back the swell of bitter resentment that filled her. "I'm sorry, this is…. Tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it."

He nodded, seeming to understand. "I need you to go see Sir Grayson, one of Lord Nasher's most trusted knights, and become his squire. He is aware of your predicament and has offered to help you."

"A squire?"

"I know it is frustrating, and I am sorry to force your hand this way. But it is a generous offer."

"Very well, and thank you. I'll see him right away."

"I may also send a...friend of mine...to assist you. He has proven invaluable in such cases in the past." Nevalle heaved a sigh. "Mind you, the matter must still go to trial, and if you cannot prove your innocence, then you will face execution. But for now, let us deal with what we can. See Sir Grayson at once at Captain Brelaina's office. Pledging yourself to Neverwinter's service will give us time to counter these Luskan lies." He paused, then reluctantly added "And I'm sorry, but until you answer for these charges, the gates of the city will be barred to you. Seek out Grayson, but do not leave the city."

He directed a nod at Casavir, then left. Silence fell in Nevalle's wake, until Duncan broke it angrily. "No way in the hells will I let those Luskans get their hands on you."

"But there's still something we can do, right?" Khelgar, too, seemed to be holding back his own rage and frustration. "Nevalle said as much; all you have to do is pledge yourself to one of the knights, and Luskan can't touch you."

"And we're innocent, besides." Neeshka's tail lashed behind her, evidence of her own distress. "I mean, the slaughter of an entire village? That's going too far, even by Luskan standards."

"Is it?" Raewyn whirled at the ranger's growl. "If you have something Luskan wants, they'd kill an entire city for it. They don't care. They attacked Neverwinter once, and even now, they're sending fleets to attack Ruathym. Give them an excuse, any excuse, and you'll soon find Luskan blades at your gate."

No one had anything to add to Bishop's words. They turned as the door opened again and Duncan groaned.

"Oh, as if the day couldn't get any worse. What do you want, Sand?"

The wizard addressed the distressed innkeeper. "I am here to help you, and your kin, actually."

"Oh, really." Duncan sneered. "And what's the price? If it's more than a half-copper, you can see yourself out."

Raewyn placed a hand on her uncle's shoulder. "Relax, Duncan, I think we need all the help we can get. Let's at least hear him out."

"Thank you, madam. No, I...seem to have been given an ultimatum, in fact. I have heard of your...troubles with Luskan."

Raewyn sighed. Did all of Neverwinter know her for an alleged murderess? "Well, Sand, what do you think? What happens if I…if I end up in Luskan hands?"

"Well, at best, they will put you on trial, or what seems to be one, then execute you. At worst, they will dispense with the courtroom mockery and execute you as soon as you step within the gate. And when I say 'execute,' do not think it will be one clean chop of a headman's axe. Luskans have all sorts of inventive ways for executing prisoners that is best not to describe on a full stomach."

He stopped as Raewyn sank into a chair, her face white. The elf continued. "I realize you may find my sincerity difficult to believe, but allow me to act on your behalf."

"I appreciate it, Sand, but why would you get involved?"

The moon elf chose his words carefully, and Raewyn was a bit surprised at his sincerity. "There are laws, and there is right and wrong. I know you uphold the law, and I do not believe you are guilty of this...and if they should get a hold of you, you will be killed. I believe people should answer for their crimes, but it must be just."

Casavir spoke up, holding back his own outrage with difficulty. "If you have ever been ruined by politics, you know that at some point, one must make a stand, or else more will fall. I think we should give Sand, and Sir Grayson the chance. This is not a battle that can be won by swords, and I for one, am ill-equipped for such a fight."

"I know, Casavir. I don't see how I can possibly fight Luskan itself, even with all of you." Raewyn leaned heavily on the table, feeling the room tilting beneath her.

"Let me join with you. I have considerable experience with these matters." Sand allowed a smug smile to turn his lips. "Foiling Luskan plots is something I relish."

"Very well, Sand. Welcome to...us. And thank you." She rose stiffly, and her voice was flat. "We will go seek out Sir Grayson together, first thing in he morning. The rest of you should all take advantage of the next few days off. I don't imagine I'll be doing much adventuring for a while."

With that she went to her room. She hadn't gone to rest, however, but to gather her weapons. She slipped out the Flagon's back door to the tiny plot behind the inn where Duncan had helped her build some targets and practice dummies. She needed to hit things, badly. For once, she wished she had another of Brelaina's errands to run. Beating the stuffing out of a pack of bandits or smugglers or githyanki would suit her perfectly. Hells, she'd be happy for a whole crew of Logram's orcs at present.

She had begun to feel the stress ease, just a little, when Casavir appeared. She didn't stop her movements, but she spared him a glance as he settled on a crate behind her, well out of range of her sword.

He remained silent, watching her, struck as always by her grace and power with a blade. She could trip over a spiderweb when walking, but with a blade in her hand she moved like a dancer, even now despite her evident stress.

"Is it helping, my lady?" he ventured at last.

"No." She heaved a sigh. "Maybe." She made a few more strokes, right, left, right, before stopping, She stood there, breathing hard, her sword dangling from her hand. Then her shoulders heaved and the sword began to slip from her fingers.

Casavir crossed to her before the blade fell, gathering her in his arms, and holding her close as huge wracking sobs tore through her. She clung to him, seeking shelter in his solidity, in his care. Her stroked her hair and murmured softly to her, his heart aching for her. She felt so small, her shoulders seemed so slight in his arms; too narrow to bear such burdens. The fate of her village, the shards, the vague warnings of the githyanki Sword Stalker, and now this.

He wanted so badly to shield her, protect her, bear her burdens for her. But there was nothing for him to fight, nothing he could do, and he felt helpless, furious, and...afraid. So he held her close and gave her a safe haven for her tears.

She took a deep shuddering breath, struggling for calm. "Thank you, Casavir. It must be awful, having me fall apart all over you."

"Not at all, my lady. I am...honored you trust me, and happy to give you whatever comfort I can."

"It means a lot to me, really. It's just…I don't even know what to feel, this is just too...big to comprehend."

"I know. I think you must take each battle as it comes to you, each day as it dawns. I know that is not so easy as it sounds…" He settled back on the crate and let her pace in her frustration.

She laughed, only half bitterly. "You are right, it is not, especially when the battles, and even the days, seem to gather themselves in packs…." She sighed. "It's not that I mind swearing to Neverwinter; although I thought I already had. But I've come to love this place. I've seen it's darker side, the corruption, the thugs; but I've seen the good, too. Partly because of you, you know." She smiled at Casavir, and he raised his brows, surprised. He had all the same doubts as she did about Neverwinter, and it was her optimism that had restored his faith in what Neverwinter stood for, if not in all of its representatives.

"It's just...they are forcing my hand! I'm grateful to Sir Grayson, I am. I know this is a tremendous honor, to say nothing of literally saving my life, but how can he, or even Nasher for all that, even want the oath of someone who's been forced to it?" She gestured restlessly, feeling trapped.

"I think you underestimate your reputation, my lady. Marshall Cormick, Captain Brelaina, and even Callum have spoken often of your accomplishments and your character. I am certain none of them would prefer to force you to this, but I think they know you will take it seriously nonetheless."

"Right. If they all think I'm so wonderful and accomplished, why is it even necessary for me to do this? Isn't everything I've done enough? Isn't swearing to the Watch enough? Does it really take being 'noble...'" she gave the word all the contempt she felt. "...to be deserving of justice?"

"No, my lady, it should not be so, you are correct. But the terms of the treaty are what they are...though I suspect that will change once this is over."

"Lovely. I get to be the precedent. I don't know as much about these things as you do, but doesn't the 'precedent' usually end up...wrongfully imprisoned, or wrongfully dead?"

"We will not let that happen, my lady."

"I know, Casavir. I'm just overwhelmed, I suppose."

She sat beside him then, her head resting on his shoulder for a long time. They were quiet, enjoying the stillness of the night together, savoring a few moments of peace.

"My lady, this may not be the proper time to speak of such things, but…"

"You know you can tell me anything. What is it?"

"I do not wish to presume, my lady. But I want to assure you that the attention I have paid to Shandra; it is for her safety and ours, nothing more. My loyalty remains to you alone…."

She held up her hand. "It's alright Casavir, I know. I just...I've missed talking with you. You've seemed to be avoiding me for a while now. Is there...have I done something wrong?"

The paladin looked away, his scowl deeper than she'd seen in a while. "I do not wish to be in the way of whatever other...associations milady may wish to…entertain."

"Associations?" She frowned in confusion. "What kind of associations do you think…." Her eyes went wide. "Oh, my gods. Wait, are you saying you are staying out of the way so I can…" she started giggling. "...associate...with Bishop?" She was laughing in earnest now, her hands on her stomach, tears in her eyes. "Thank you, Casavir…." She saw his scowl deepen and he looked even more uncomfortable, even miserable.

"I guess what they say is true, laughter really is good for the soul. I needed that." Still chuckling, she wiped her eyes. "Now seriously, you can't possibly think I would ever…" she searched his face, seeing only distress there. "Gods, you were serious?"

"What my lady chooses…" He ground the words out between clenched teeth. "...who my lady chooses…." She put her hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at her.

"Casavir, stop, honestly. I admit, I want to believe there is some good in Bishop, but even if I was so inclined—which I am most decidedly not, by the way—I would sooner, and safer, let a viper into my bed. Believe me, I have no interest in...associating...with Bishop; none. And alright, yes, perhaps I was a little afraid that you'd begun to prefer Shandra's company to mine. That wasn't very charitable of me, I know. But I missed you, Casavir. Please, ask me before you decide to leave me alone for my own sake?"

He almost smiled. "Yes, my lady. I have...missed you as well."

She laced her arm through his. "So tell me, my paladin, what shall I expect from squirehood?"


	11. Chapter 11: Sworn as a Squire

Sir Grayson Corett greeted her cordially, and set about explaining her role as a squire, as well as the rites that would seal her vow to him, to Nasher, and to Neverwinter.

"My sword is sworn to Nasher, Neverwinter, and Tyr. And it falls to me to teach you chivalry, so that you will not dishonor me overmuch as your knight."

"I hope not to dishonor you at all, Sir Grayson." She strove to keep the irritation from her voice, and failed. Raewyn supposed he was simply observing formalities, but his tone, like her predicament, rankled. Just because Luskan put forth these trumped up charges, everyone suddenly seemed to think her no better than the dock rats she'd been praised for dealing with so 'honorably.'

Grayson raised an eyebrow, but refrained from commenting upon her ire. "Good. You appear capable of defending yourself, so we'll not discuss that. Still, count yourself lucky to avoid years of caring for my horse and scouring the rust from my arms and armor. Your need is great, so I'll take you as my charge."

"The brotherhood of knights is one bound by the ideals of chivalry and honor. Without honor, a knight is nothing more than an animal with a sword. To be a knight is to lead a life of duty and responsibility. We are bound by a code that prescribes our every action…."

Grayson expounded on the rules of knightly conduct, but Raewyn was left wondering how many battles this man had even seen, or if he had ever witnessed true suffering, much less taken up arms to alleviate it. Grayson was kindly enough, but he seemed so pompous, entirely too certain of his own righteousness. In spite of herself, she found herself comparing him to Casavir, thinking of Casavir's quiet, simple, determination to do the right thing, even when it had flown in the face of the very oaths Grayson was reciting. For all that Casavir remained convinced he was an oath-breaker, Raewyn couldn't help but think that Casavir had truly served the people of Neverwinter far more than the immaculately polished Grayson, and she resolved to tell him so the first chance she had.

"…and at all times to embody and uphold the laws of your lord and land."

Raewyn knew she was treading on dangerous territory, but she had to ask. "But what if 'the laws of my lord and land' require me to act unrighteously? Should I not be guided by the best interests of the people, even over the commands of a lord?"

"To serve your land IS to act righteously. If your cause is noble, so, too, are the actions you take in its name. What wouldn't you do to see your home protected, to know that your loved ones are sleeping soundly each night?"

"I would do much, but I would not do evil. I have to live with my actions. My conscience dictates my path."

Grayson raised his chin so he looked down his nose at her. "Remember that in becoming a squire, you take an oath to serve Neverwinter. See that your conscience doesn't guide you down the path to treason."

Yes, Raewyn could see Casavir's problem perfectly. To serve was noble only as long as the cause or leader one served was noble. There was no honor in serving a corrupt master, no matter how faithfully. She didn't think Nasher himself, his knights, or even Neverwinter as a whole were corrupt, but she had seen enough to know that its leaders too easily forgot that their decisions had real consequences for the lives of the people they ruled. However, she knew that to debate the point further would accomplish nothing except to jeopardize her chances to prove her innocence. 'I come already to my first compromise,' she thought, 'no doubt of many.'

Grayson had continued, "…you will be expected to perform certain duties for the crown. Given your unique circumstance, these duties will be waiting for you after the trial. However, there is one observance that cannot be postponed; the vigil."

He paused significantly, and even though Casavir had told her of the squire's vigil, she inquired dutifully, "Vigil? What is that, Sir Grayson?"

Grayson puffed with pleasure at her inquiry; clearly she had read him correctly. "Your vigil is a time for reflection and contemplation. It is a sacred tradition. All who would become squires spend a night in the Solace Glade. You must spend the night alone, of course. Most choose to reflect on their vows, or to ask the blessing of their gods. On the next morning, I will welcome you into our brotherhood."

"Very well, then, Sir Grayson. I am ready."

SIr Grayson led her to a lushly wooded area behind Castle Never.

"This is the Solace Glade. Every knight and squire of Neverwinter has touched this sacred ground. To Helm, to Tempus, to Torm, and to Tyr have prayers been given. Think on that, think on the fellowship you wish to join, perhaps clear your mind and think of nothing. I will return in the morning, and you will greet the new day as my squire."

Raewyn settled in beside a small fire. She was tired, but she had little fear of falling asleep for she had much to mull over. She smiled, imagining the young Casavir himself in this same spot, grappling with the weight of the responsibility he was undertaking. The thought comforted her, but she was still troubled. She knew that she could do good things in the service of Neverwinter, as she had so far. But she had other concerns. One was, of course, the failure of those in power to be aware of or respond to the needs of their people. But there was more that bothered her.

The shards were still a largely unknown entity. And if Zeeaire's raving had any basis in fact, then a far bigger threat than the githyanki was still out there, likely in the form of Garius and his shadows priests. The King of Shadows of which Aldanon had spoken kept coming up and she didn't know where he fit in, if at all. There was still the Construct, whose master remained unknown, and the mysterious mage who seemed to command the demons they had fought. And now Luskan had shown itself to be bent on her destruction. What had begun as a quest to safeguard her village had become far bigger, possibly bigger even than Neverwinter itself.

What would she do if her service to Neverwinter prevented her from dealing with that threat? The thought also occurred to her that she herself, if she became a target, could pose a danger to Neverwinter itself. She chased her thoughts in circles until her head ached. Her thoughts were interrupted by a whisper from the trees.

"Are you here? I can barely see anything out here."

She peered into the shadows, finally able to make out a form coming towards her.

"Shandra? What are you doing here?"

Shandra chuckled at her. "Look, the way trouble follows you, there's no way I'd let you come out here alone."

"Thank you for coming, but I'm meant to stand this vigil alone. It's tradition."

"You really believe this stuff, don't you, Raewyn? Maybe I was wrong about knights."

Now it was Raewyn's turn to laugh. "That's part of what I've been thinking about, in fact. I'm glad you're here. Have a seat."

They chatted a while, and Raewyn was glad of the company. Suddenly Shandra sat up straighter. "Hey, did you hear something?"

Raewyn rose, and made out three more shapes coming toward her, and she was certain these were not friends. The leader was human, and bore markings on his face and arms that Raewyn didn't recognize. The other two looked to be half orc. "Who are you, and why are you bothering me?"

"I didn't expect the girl to be here. We'll spare her the grief of crying over your corpse and kill her as well."

"Why don't you try?" sneered Raewyn, her hand on her sword. She wondered for a moment if this was part of some test, but if so, it was nothing Casavir had told her about. Then again, she supposed it wouldn't be effective if she was warned. They certainly looked serious enough….

"We're the ones who've been sent to kill you, 'squire.' Try not to die too quietly."

The assassins flew at them, and Raewyn was even happier for Shandra's presence. She hadn't been training long, but she proved an able fighter. It was over in a matter of minutes.

"Solace Glade, huh? Talk about a poor name choice." Shandra panted. "Those men came out of nowhere...don't you ever spend one night in peace?"

"It's rare, trust me." Raewyn crouched near the leader of the three, looking for some kind of identifying marks.

"I believe that. Any idea who they are?"

"No idea. They don't look like thieves. And they were definitely hunting for us, or well, me."

Shandra helped her examine the assassins. "Hey, the leader here...he's got a ring on his finger. It's a circle, with teeth...or spikes, maybe."

"Or daggers?"

Shandra shrugged. "Could be, I suppose. It's hard to tell with all the blood. Here, you take the ring, I don't want to hold on to it." She dropped it into Raewyn's palm before wiping her hands on her leggings. "Look, maybe I better slip away before your knight returns... I don't want you getting into any trouble."

"That's probably for the best. Thanks for your help, Shandra."

"Sure...actually, in some ways, it was kind of fun. Good luck, and hopefully when we see each other again, you'll be Neverwinter's newest squire."

Raewyn sighed. "That's what they keep telling me."

As she sat down again for the last hours of her vigil, Raewyn found she felt calmer, though she had no better answers than before. Sooner than she though possible, Sir Grayson appeared over the rise. He looked over the bodies of the assassins with a raised eyebrow.

"What happened here?"

"I was attacked in the night." Raewyn answered, though she was tempted to offer a sarcastic answer.

"No doubt they caught wind of our plan, and saw this as their last chance to judge you as they wished." He stood up from his inspection of the assassins. "Either way, their efforts have failed and that is all that matters. Raewyn Thorne Farlong, I take you as my squire, and bind you to the service of the throne of Neverwinter. Come, Nasher should be informed of your change in station."

Grayson presented her to Lord Nasher, and her calm declaration of loyalty to Neverwinter managed to set Torio, the Luskan ambassador who had leveled the charges against her fuming and sputtering. She turned and left in a huff, leaving Nasher with a grin.

"Seeing that gloating smile stripped from her face pleases me more than you will know." Raewyn was stunned to see an expression of near glee on Lord Nasher's face, and she found she liked him a bit better for it. "But this has bought only a little more time, time we cannot afford to waste. We must find the truth of what happened at Ember, and quickly. But you cannot do so here. Squire, you have my leave to depart Neverwinter, provided you give your word to return for the trial."

"I will, My Lord. Thank you." Almost to her surprise, she really meant it.


	12. Chapter 12: Return to Ember

Nevalle suggested Raewyn begin her search at Port Llast, a small port town just seaward of Ember.

Indeed…" said Sand, thoughtfully "It would be wise to speak to Haeromos in Port Llast. He is said to be a fair man, and vigilant of his people and the lands around. We'll see."

Over the journey, Raewyn spent some time talking with Sand, getting to know the newest addition to their group. Behind his acerbic manner, she found the elven wizard possessed of a droll and sharp wit and intelligence to match. She also began to suspect, somewhat to her surprise given Duncan's open dislike of him, that he was a genuinely good person, who cared about people more than he let on. Even his sniping matches with Shandra and Neeshka didn't bother her, for she sensed it was all surface, much as Neeshka and Khelgar's banter had become more habitual than heartfelt. Bishop had not accompanied them on this trip, and even all the rest of her companions together didn't grate on her nerves as much as the ranger did, particularly his constant antagonizing of Casavir.

For his part, the paladin seemed much more relaxed without the ranger along, despite the grim nature of their undertaking. Thinking back over her squire's vigil, Raewyn remembered what she had resolved to tell him that day.

"Casavir? Can we talk?"

"If you wish." An almost-smile softened his words, and Raewyn fell in beside him.

"There is something I have wanted to tell you since I first met Sir Grayson, but I haven't had the chance. Do you remember how you told me of the knight's code that night outside the Flagon?"

"I do, my lady. I suspect Grayson told you of it as well?"

"Well, yes he did, but…." she paused, wondering suddenly if Casavir might be offended by what she was about to say. "May I be blunt?"

He merely nodded, but his raised eyebrow showed his curiosity.

"Forgive me for saying so, but as much as I appreciate Sir Grayson's assistance, I think, well, I think he's a pompous ass who may know the 'code' like the back of his hand, but hasn't a clue what it means."

Casavir uttered a bark that might have been a startled laugh. "What led you to this conclusion, my lady?" he asked her. Raewyn noticed he had not disagreed.

"His attitude, I suppose, for starters. He's just so damnably convinced of his own righteousness, but it doesn't seem like he ever stops to analyze it, to ask questions. It's all rote for him. I couldn't help comparing him to you, Casavir."

"To me, my lady?" He sounded surprised, but also uncertain.

"Yes, and for whatever it's worth, I found him lacking. For all his pretty armor and prettier words, I can't see him ever going out of his way to help anyone without being told to. I mean, he may talk about courage and honor, but you...you live them. I can't help thinking that you have served Neverwinter better than he ever will."

Casavir stopped walking and faced her. "My lady, I cannot begin to say what it means to hear you say that. You have already helped me put to rest much of my...conflict, but…"

She smiled at him. "I am only speaking what is true, and I hope someday Neverwinter chooses to recognize one of her finest knights."

Casavir looked away, and a moment later muttered something about provisions and walked ahead of her. Raewyn had begun to expect this behavior whenever their conversation became at all emotional. She was beginning to understand that Casavir's withdrawal at such times was not a rejection of her, but his way of handling strong emotion. She smiled fondly at his back, and then turned her attention back to the trail.

The Port Llast Garrison Commander, Haeromos, proved less than helpful, but he did allow Sand and Raewyn to speak with Ailene, the only surviving witness from Ember, a woman known to Shandra. After speaking with her, Raewyn felt somewhat encouraged, though she refused to allow Sand to take control of the traumatized girl for fear of putting her at further risk from Luskan reprisals. The assassins in the Solace Glade told her all she needed to know about how far Luskan would go to try and eliminate her, and she didn't want any more innocents drawn into danger.

They then spoke with several of the townsfolk, and received quite a bit of useful information. While in town they also took time to restock their supplies. They stopped first at the smithy. The smith, Hjal Throndar, also had information along with his wares. He told them to seek out another merchant in town named Nya.

A they approached the shop to which Hjal had directed them, a dark-hired young woman clad in mage robes called out a warning. "Careful there, watch the wyrmsage! I ought to tidy up, but there's never time…."

"Wyrmsage…" mused Sand."...that's used as a reagent in certain spells."

The young woman looked at him in surprise. "Yes, that's right. You have an eye for the obscure. I am Nya."

"Well met, Nya." Raewyn greeted her. "So what is all this for?"

"It's used to prevent the dead from rising, if I recall correctly." interjected Sand.

Raewyn turned back to Nya. "Does Port Llast have an undead problem?"

"No, no…. Well, it's Ember. A little village north of here. The people were slaughtered. Horribly." she paused, giving a shudder of horror. "If their bodies aren't tended, they'll return as undead. It is only a matter of time."

"Why haven't the bodies been buried?" Raewyn asked with a shudder.

"Ember is in Luskan territory, and the Luskans haven't bothered. Not that I'd expect anything less from Luskan. Surely you can see that this is a crime! Those corpses mustn't be left to rot, nor should innocent souls be condemned to torment."

"Perhaps I can help? What do you need me to do?"

"Somehow I knew you would understand...Look here. This is a wyrmsage extract... mixed with some other reagents. You need only sprinkle the bodies with this extract. If any souls remain trapped within, their negative energies will be suppressed, and they will be free to pass beyond this world."

"An… overly dramatic description... and assumption... of the properties of souls, but she is correct. The wyrmsage will serve to fight the necromantic arts."

"Here, take this bag. Sprinkle a pinch of the powder over each body you find, and that should be enough to put the spirit to rest. I'll wait here for your return. And thank you, my lady."

They had spoken the incantation over the fallen at Ember, sprinkling each of them with the wyrmsage as Nya had instructed. When the last of the dead had been seen to, Raewyn sagged to her knees, the determination that had kept her mobile as she tried to do what she could for the victims abandoning her. Sand was rummaging around in the ruins, seeking evidence that might help their cause, with Neeshka and Elanee assisting him. Shandra saw Raewyn sink the the ground, and called to Casavir.

"Can you take her back to the stream we passed? I think she needs to get away from here for a little while."

Casavir, having seen her as well, agreed. "Come my lady…. You have done what you can here."

She followed him unresisting, her legs barely able to carry her. She was so tired. The burden of the shard, now not merely a matter of a trinket sought by assassins but now a dread weight within her, forcing her into an uncertain conflict with an unknown lurking shadow, felt heavy in her chest. And now the dead of Ember seemed to surround her, pressing down upon her, heavier with each step. She wished nothing more than to sink down beside them and let these burdens slip free, and let the darkness take her.

They reached the campsite, and she sank to the ground then, sobs racking her small frame.

"I can't do this, Casavir! I can't carry this, I can't follow this path. I brought this to these people, their deaths rest on my shoulders and it's so heavy…"

He sat beside her and gathered her onto his lap and held her while she cried, murmuring softly as he stroked her hair. "It is not your doing, my lady. You have done what you can. You have brought them peace. You are so much stronger than you know, and you do not walk alone."

Her sobs subsided at last, and he held her close, giving her what comfort he could, though his heart bled for her.

She took a shuddering breath and drew back to look at him, placing her hand along his cheek and he couldn't help but lean into her touch. He held her gaze and she felt herself pulled into the cerulean of his eyes. She saw his concern for her, the hope she had given to him, and the admiration he had for her. In his eyes, the hopelessness she felt began to recede. In its place she felt a surge of desire for life, for hope. For the man who held her.

"A moment ago, I wanted to just let go, let the dark wash over me and let all these burdens just slip away. But in your eyes, I see hope." She searched his gaze. "You give me strength, you make me think I can go on another day. You make me want to try, you make me want...a future. I want life, Casavir." She drew a deep breath. "I want…" The 'you' on her lips died unspoken as a shout from her companions rang through the trees.

"Raewyn? Casavir?" It was Shandra, leading the others.

Casavir pulled back as suddenly as if a spell had been broken. He rose, setting her gently away from him. She reached for him and he pulled away.

"My lady, I am sorry…I...I can't."

"Casavir? No, wait…"

He rose and strode quickly from the makeshift camp, with a last brief glimpse over his shoulder. He stopped a hundred yards away, breathing heavily. His mind was filled with his last image of her, sitting where he left her, her cheeks flushed, tears returning to her eyes, her hand outstretched to him. He didn't dare to name what he had seen in her gaze as she'd spoken of wanting life, for he was certain she'd been about to say she wanted him, wanted life with him.

His fists clenched as he fought to regain control over his racing heartbeat, fear and exultation flooding him in equal measure. He felt the iron control with which he'd kept rein on his heart begin to slip. With a roar of frustration he let fly and bashed his fists into the tree beside him, over and over, until the pain penetrated through his anguish.

He sank down then, cradling his head in his bleeding hands, his heart battling his conscience. He could no longer deny that his feelings for her were growing beyond loyalty, beyond friendship, beyond even affection, and it terrified him. He had struggled for so long with his own failings, each one, it seemed to him, born of blindness, of emotion, of distraction from his duty. He could not bear to fail Raewyn in the same fashion. He would not. But the longer he was with her, the more she called to him, awakening feelings he had forsworn years before. The conflict tormented him, and it was hours before he brought himself back under control and turned his steps back to the the camp; back to her.

The band had gathered again to camp outside of Ember, all of them wanting some distance from the sorrow that lingered there. Raewyn sat alone, huddled in her cloak beside a cracking fire as they rounded the bend in the path and joined her. Shandra sat down beside Raewyn and asked where Casavir had gone.

"He went scouting" was all Raewyn would say, though Shandra could see from her face that there was more to it. Something had happened, but Raewyn remained silent. They sat around the fire, talking quietly, their usual jokes and squabbles subdued. Raewyn said nothing more to anyone, and only remained where she was, staring into the fire. It was full dark before Casavir returned like a ghost materializing out of the shadowed woods. He went directly to Raewyn, knelt behind her, and spoke too softly for the rest to hear.

"My lady, may I speak with you a moment, in private?"

She nodded, not speaking. She followed him into the trees a little, and sat on a fallen trunk. Casavir sat facing her, and she braced herself for the worst. She could not look at him, for to do so hurt her heart more than she had strength to bear. She had been about to voice all the feelings that had been growing within her, that she herself had barely begun to understand, and he clearly wanted none of it, none of her. He would leave, she was certain of it. She was equally certain her heart would beak. She studied the dark earth at her feet as she fought her tears.

"I apologize for my behavior earlier, my lady. It was unseemly, and...cruel. I….."

He looked away, gathering his thoughts. "You have earned my honesty, my lady, though it is a difficult thing of which to speak."

Raewyn kept her head down as the tears she'd fought to control spilled down her cheeks.

"But it is time I told you the all of the reasons why I left Neverwinter."

She looked up at him in surprise. This was not what she had expected. He saw the moisture on her cheek, and reached a gentle hand to brush it away before he went on.

"When I was first pledged to Neverwinter, it was with the Watch, much as you were. And much of my time was spent serving in the merchant district. When I was made a knight, I spent more time in Blacklake, but I often went to patrol with my old comrades in other districts. I think I felt, even then, the need to put my blade to more…immediate use."

She nodded. She knew that he had chafed under the formality of the court and its politics. It was a frustration she was beginning to understand herself, the deeper she was drawn into it.

"One evening I was in the merchant district, patrolling with one of the three watch captains, a man with whom I had served before. A new leader had emerged among the thugs, a woman named Moire. She was ambitious, and like many ambitious new leaders, she sought to cement her position by a daring act. The other two watch captains had been bribed to be elsewhere when she and her men attacked...an establishment called the Moonstone Mask."

"The other captain and I with four other watchmen ran in to stop it, but we were only six. We stopped the raid, but Moire and her henchmen escaped, and three young women were killed." There was bitterness in his voice at the remembered inability to protect the innocent. "If only the other watch captains and their men had been there…. That was my first taste of how deeply corruption had penetrated Neverwinter, and how much that could impact its people."

He shook his head, returning to his tale.

"The owner, Ophala Cheldarstorn, the...madam of the place, thanked me profusely, and she invited me for dinner to show her gratitude. You must understand, for all my experience and training, I had spent my years in barracks and temples. I had scarcely spoken to any woman since I was a lad. I had certainly never known anyone like her. She glittered in velvet and silk and exotic perfumes." He gave her a sad and ironic smile. "She made my head spin."

"Ophala taught me...much," he colored slightly. "...and I fell in love with her, wholly and without reservation, thinking she loved me in return. A few months later, I found myself with a free day unexpectedly, and I went to see her. I had found her favorite flower and I was bringing her an armful of them."

Raewyn smiled a little, imagining with little difficulty a romantic young Casavir bringing flowers to his lady love. He continued. "I intended to ask her to be my betrothed. Her maid tried to stop me from going upstairs, which should have warned me, but I would not be dissuaded; I trusted her completely. But when I entered the room…" he stopped as his voice broke. Raewyn laid a hand on his arm, lending him encouragement, for plainly it was hard for him to recall. "…she was not alone."

"Who was with her?" she asked, almost afraid to know.

His voice was expressionless for a moment. "Fenton Aldair, a young noble, one known to be…craven and dissolute. I assumed of course that she was his victim, and leapt to her defense." The roughness returned to his voice, and Raewyn's heart twisted to see the pain on Casavir's face. "They...laughed at me. I was such a fool!" He shook his head again, and Raewyn could see he carried self-recrimination like a talisman. "I insisted that I loved her, and told her why I was there, but she called me a plaything, and said she couldn't believe I had been so foolish as to think she loved me."

"Oh, Casavir! How horrible of her to have treated you that way." She took his hands, only then seeing the blood which crusted his torn and ravaged knuckles. "Your hands, Casavir, what…?"

He brushed her question aside, hiding his hands in the folds of his cloak. She spoke again.

"Listen to me, you were not a fool. No matter what she did, you truly loved her, and you gave your trust to the woman you loved."

"She was not worthy of such things."

"That may be true, Casavir, but a good heart does not judge the one it loves, but loves without judging. She made her choice of what to do with your love. No, she did not deserve it; she did not deserve you. That makes her a horrible person, but it doesn't make you a fool."

"Your words are kind, my lady, and I thank you, though I am not so certain." The paladin took a deep breath before continuing. "I was in a rage, and I…I challenged him to a duel. It was not a lawful duel, but I did not care. When I told my closest friend, he too laughed at me. He said he did not know I was foolish enough to fall in love with a whore."

Raewyn felt tears in her eyes, together with a surge of anger at not only that awful woman but at Casavir's supposed friend.

"He was at least friend enough to persuade me to abandon the duel, which I did. But someone went to the meeting place and killed Aldair anyway, and I was charged with the murder."

She gasped. "Murder!" She knew now why he had reacted so strongly to the accusations leveled against her. "But who could have killed him?"

"I do not know, but only one other person knew the appointed time and place of the duel."

"Ophala. You don't think she…." Raewyn said, horrified.

"Not she herself, but she was no stranger to such...schemes. My friend vouched for my whereabouts at the time, and I was acquitted, but my reputation was ruined. I later learned that Fenton's father and another of the nobles had been feuding for years, and that Ophala had been complicit in a number of intrigues on both sides. I now think she tried to use me to kill her lover, knowing how I would react when I found out about her affair with Aldair. When I refused, she took advantage of my challenge to him and framed me for his murder. I have no proof, for I have never had the heart to investigate further, and until you came to Old Owl Well, I never expected to return to Neverwinter."

He stopped for a moment, lost in the past, and Raewyn gently took his battered hands in hers.

"The worst part is that there was more concern about the death of one corrupt noble at the hands of another than there had been about the raid itself, about the corruption of the watch, or about the innocent young women that had perished along with so many others. I was as bad as the rest, for I myself had done nothing, being swept up in my foolish love for Ophala."

"I saw Neverwinter growing corrupt, but by letting love and passion distract me, I had allowed myself to become corrupt as well. I let my heart blind me to duty and justice. And that is when I left Neverwinter, to find a place to redeem myself, and lose myself."

"By dying in battle in defense of the helpless at the Well." she said softly.

"Yes...but no amount of battle was enough. When the orcs lay dead, I could still hear her words to me, her laughter" He shook his head again, as if reliving the pain. "It was unbearable. I could not shut her out. I wanted to die there, in those mountains. But I could not, no matter how many orcs spilled from its caves."

"Oh, Casavir, I am so sorry. But you cannot blame yourself, for any of it. There is nothing wrong with loving another. It seems to me that Ophala had much experience in using people, manipulating them. You cannot be faulted for that, that guilt is hers and hers alone."

She put her hands on his shoulders, forcing him to meet her eyes. "Casavir, you are a good, honorable man, with a tremendous heart, and a great capacity for love and passion. Your love, your passion, your heart; these are your strengths, as a paladin, and as a man. You must accept your ability to love, and accept love that is offered you."

He shrugged, finding her words eerily reminiscent of Shandra's, the night before Nevalle's appearance. "I do not know if I can, my lady. There is only one thing I fear: to let myself be blinded again, and thereby fail you. But I thank you for hearing my confession. And I am sorry that my flawed and unworthy heart caused you pain earlier. It was my last intention, I assure you."

"I know. I am only so very grateful that you failed in at least part of your mission at Old Owl Well, or I would not have found you. And," she cut off his coming objection, "I am blessed to have found you."

"And I you, my lady. You have made me feel strong, and I did not think I would ever feel that way again. I will continue to strive to be worthy of the trust you have placed in me."

"You are strong." She gingerly took his battered hands in hers. "And I know you are worthy, Casavir, and more than worthy. I think Tyr chose his paladin well."

"You are a miracle to me, my lady." She saw a tear slip down his cheek by the faint starlight, and she wrapped her arms around him. She knew how hard it had been for him to tell her of his heartbreak, and she resolved that she would help him heal, one way or another. They sat in silence a while then, his cloak around them both, the stars marching slowly overhead.

"Moire has been stopped, you know." She said it quietly, sudden in the silence.

"Oh?"

"Yes. By me. I was sent to arrest her right hand henchman, Caleb, but was forced to kill him. Soon after that, I was sent to stop Moire from smuggling weapons into the Back Alley district. I know I told you of the smuggling raid, but I don't think I mentioned how it ended. We surprised her in her warehouse, and she chose to fight rather than surrender. She died on my sword, and her gang scattered or were arrested" She turned to look at him once more. "I thought you'd want to know."

He brushed a light kiss upon her hair and smiled into the dark. "Thank you, my lady."


	13. Chapter 13: A Mockery of Justice

The return to Ember was the low point of their search for exonerating evidence. Having faced the dead and set them to rest, Raewyn felt some of the weight of the last weeks lift from her shoulders. Part of that was finding Marcus, the boy who had foretold the fall of Ember. He had known what was coming, and armed with the knife she had convinced Bishop to give him, he had taken shelter in the town's well. The well led to a series of caves, in which they had found additional evidence, and additional friends.

Casavir still shook his head in wonder recalling the giant she-spider they had dubbed Kistrel. Elf, dwarf, tiefling, even kobold; Raewyn had assembled a strange set of friends. But a giant spider was amazing even in this company. He chuckled to himself imagining the uproar that was bound to ensue when Kistrel rejoined them as promised. But the huge arachnid wasn't the only ally Raewyn had gathered. The goblins who resided in the caves adjacent to Ember's well had not only given them more evidence of Ember's real attackers, but had become friends, another truly exceptional occurrence.

After a brief stop in Port Llast to inform Nya that the dead of Ember now slept at peace, the group had returned to Neverwinter. The time to face Torio in court was at hand. Though her terror of the fate which might await her in Luskan remained deep below the surface, Raewyn felt mostly at peace, even cautiously optimistic. She would stand alone in the hall of justice, but as always, she knew her companions were with her nevertheless.

Before she entered the great hall, she stopped, and gathered her companions around her. They had all come to show their support at the proceedings; even Bishop, and Duncan had closed the Flagon for the day—something he assured her was an unprecedented event.

"Before I go in there, I want you all to know that no matter what happens today, I am more grateful to all of you than I can ever express for your help, friendship, and support. I could never have come this far without you."

One by one, her companions stepped forward to embrace her, and express their wishes for her success. Even Bishop wished her well, sounding more awkward than she'd ever seen him. He even refrained from any lewd comments.

"Look, don't let those Luskan bastards intimidate you. There's not an honest one among the bunch. I hope...I hope it goes well." She smiled, touched by his concern. "Thank you, Bishop, I really appreciate it." He stood awkwardly for a moment, clearly uncomfortable embracing her as her other companions had done. He finally clapped her on the shoulder and strode quickly away.

She watched him go, bemused, then turned to Casavir, expecting a thunderous scowl. Instead she saw a look of shrewd speculation. She smiled at him, happy to see his seeming acceptance of Bishop's good wishes. "And you, Casavir?" Her voice shook as she felt her fear rise. "Have you words of wisdom for me?"

"Do you need them, my lady?"

"I don't know what's going to happen in there, and I…I'm a little terrified. If...if it goes against me…."

"You must not think that way…"

"Let me finish Casavir. If it goes against me, I want you to promise me something. Do not let them take me."

"What? My lady…"

"No, I mean it. You know what would await me in Luskan. Promise me you won't let that happen." Panic tinged her voice. "Don't you think I'd rather...die...in your arms...than whatever they would do…?"

"Dear gods, Raewyn, I can not…." He stopped, closing his eyes, struggling for calm. He understood why she had asked this of him, and he knew she was right, but he could not voice such a promise. He took her hands in his. "My lady, you have restored my faith, in my vows as a paladin, in Neverwinter, in Tyr's calling. Allow me to give you some of that faith now. You stand on the side of justice, and you must trust in Tyr to stand with you, as you have stood with me."

He raised her hands to his lips and pressed a fervent kiss to each. "All will be well, my lady, please believe that."

Casavir's hands on hers made her heart race. But his kisses on her hands made it thunder to a stop. His lips were soft, as soft as she'd imagined, and his eyes sparkled almost sapphire.

"I…" she stuttered, forgetting for a moment the trial, possibly even her name. "Casavir, right now I think I'd believe you if you told me I could fly…"

He leaned forward and brushed a featherlight kiss on her hair, before turning to enter the audience chambers. She took a deep breath to still the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. 'Wouldn't do to be giddy at my murder trial, after all.' She squared her shoulders, took one last deep breath, and went to face her trial.

Lord Nasher's voice rang out bold and clear in the great hall. "The case before me was a difficult one... but it seems we know now the identity of Ember's attackers. Nevalle, I want the ambassador, her retinue, and any remaining members of the Arcane Brotherhood of Luskan outside the city gates by nightfall."

As Lord Nasher announced his decision, Raewyn felt a weight lift from her shoulders, and she couldn't quite repress a giggle at Torio's outrage. There had been times since the accusation had been leveled against her that she had doubted whether justice existed in Neverwinter. But listening to the people who spoke out for her, she felt deeply humbled, and remembered that it was, as Casavir had told her so long ago, the people that made the kingdom, not the other way around. And in Neverwinter's people, she had indeed found justice, and hope. As the gallery exploded in applause, she met Casavir's eyes, and he nodded proudly and she was sure he'd been thinking the same thing. Their relief vanished a moment later.

"I claim the right of trial by combat." The Hall of Justice fell into stunned silence at Torio's words.

Nasher turned back to her, his expression thunderous. "Ambassador, I am tired of your games, and I will indulge you no longer."

Raewyn and her companions looked on in horror as Torio went on, smug as a cat who had her mouse by the tail. "In a matter of such importance, you would deny me my sacred right of appeal? Can Lord Nasher do that, Reverend Judge? Can he put himself above our god Tyr in this matter?"

Oleff looked miserable, and looked an apology at Raewyn. "He... cannot. The ambassador from Luskan is entitled to an appeal as she describes."

Sand was shaking his head, clearly distressed. "Gods, I was hoping she didn't know about it."

"And who will fight for you, Torio?" Sir Nevalle faced her with barely repressed fury. "This is no battle with words, though I would like to see you try to match your wit against the blade of a true soldier of Neverwinter."

Torio played her role for all she could; Sand had been right about her flair for theatrics. "Indeed, you are correct, Sir Nevalle. Luskan is not the aggressor here, and I only wish to see justice done. But I cannot defend myself and seek justice in this matter…" Raewyn rolled her eyes at the Luskan Ambassador's drama, and saw Nasher doing the same. Somehow that made her feel a bit better. "...is there not one who will champion the people of Ember?"

There was a long moment when no one made a sound, and Raewyn began to hope that Torio would find herself with a humiliating lack of champion. Then a low growl filled the silence. "I will."

Raewyn's head snapped around. That voice, it sounded...familiar? She looked at the great lumbering hulk who had entered the hall, searching for some recognizable feature. The man was bald headed, tattooed, and scarred. Certainly Raewyn would remember crossing paths with a brute like this. She looked closer, and her eyes widened in horror. The curve of the jaw, the arch of the brow, reminded her of...Bevil?

Bevil Starling had been her best friend from childhood, her first teenage crush, her first admittedly awkward kiss. He had fought beside her to defend West Harbor the night of the invasion. But how could this massive thug have Bevil's look about him? In her memory, she heard the voice of Rhetta Starling, 'If you find out anything about Lorne, please send word. It wold bring me peace to know what became of my boy…'

"Nine bloody hells!" she whispered.

The brute, Lorne Starling, for it was him, she was certain, spoke again. "I have listened to these lies, and will answer them with my blade, in Luskan's name."

Judge Oleff's jaw clenched so tightly Raewyn would have sworn that she heard his teeth grinding across the room. "So be it. After the Rite is observed, the trial shall be held in the morning, upon the tourney grounds. Arm yourself and be ready, squire, or choose a champion to fight for you."

After all they'd been through, gathering evidence to clear her name, it came down to this. She must fight Lorne Starling. Of all the people Torio could have found to throw at her, why Lorne? She knew the answer, of course. Torio, and whoever was controlling her, would take any advantage they could get, and Lorne's connection to Raewyn was something they had doubtless been thrilled to discover. It was true, Lorne was and always had been a brute; she remembered Georg and Cormick's accounts of his now infamous loss at the Harvest Brawl. But making her fight the brother of her best friend, whose mother was like a mother to her as well, was an advantage a snake like Torio would never pass up. Assuming she survived a fight with the hardened veteran Lorne had become, how in hells could she ever face Rhetta with such news? And once again, she thought gloomily, she'd have an entire night to dwell upon it.

Heartsick, she left the court without speaking to her companions. She couldn't bear the sympathy on their faces if she told them who her opponent was, and she couldn't refrain from telling them if they spoke. She saw Casavir's eyes on her, hurt and puzzlement written across his features. Closing her eyes, she sent a silent apology his way, and continued to the Temple of Tyr.

The smell of incense greeted her, and she remembered the day she'd come here with the paladin the first time he'd returned to Neverwinter with her. The memory brought a smile to her lips, and her steps fell a little lighter on the carpeted aisle.

Hlam greeted her warmly, his distress at the situation plain. He then briefed her about the Ritual of Cleansing she would undergo that night to prepare for the trial by combat. When she had asked a few questions, Hlam finally initiated the formal proceeding. "Are you ready for the Rite of Tyr?"

"Yes, I am ready." Her voice was strong as she said it, and she felt oddly serene despite the doubts that nagged her.

Raewyn was a little surprised when Khelgar came and offered to fight as her champion. She and Hlam had not even reached the altar where she was to spend her vigil when the Ironfist burst through the doors in a rare temper.

"Hold a moment - this Rite of Tyr can wait, I haven't had my say yet."

"Khelgar? What is it? Why are you here?"

"Why am I here?" He bristled as if the answer should be obvious. "Well, it's because I want to take your place. That... Torio, she's got you matched up with a Luskan-trained killer!There's no justice in that little viper suddenly bringing a bear out of nowhere to fight you! Let me fight him!"

"Khelgar…." she began, to no avail.

"He's a... a... dog" the dwarf sputtered, "not even worthy of you. He fights like a Luskan fights, through daggers in the back; poisoned daggers even! I mean... you've shown me that you can win a battle through words, and it may have opened my eyes a little, just a little, but seems to me we tried the wordplay, and now the real fight's here."

"But why are you so upset that it's come to a fight?"

"Because it's not fair, that's why! I don't mind a fight for fight's sake, but this "crime" they've accused you of, the slaughter of an entire village... It's more than just a fight... It's…" he foundered, words failing him.

"You feel it is unjust." Hlam prompted quietly.

Khelgar exploded in response. "You're damned right it's unjust! This isn't just a fight, by the Gods, this is honor, and fairness, and the lives of you and those people of Ember who were slaughtered!" he smacked a gloved fist into his palm. "After all you went through, all the searching for clues and those poor villagers... to lay it all on your head... by the Gods, I WANT to fight him! I'll show him justice!"

Hlam turned to Raewyn. "You are allowed to choose a champion. Do you wish this one to take your place? You must still undergo the Rite of Tyr, but when Lorne emerges on the field tomorrow, it shall be this one who fights in your stead."

Raewyn knelt to look the Ironfist in the eye. "Khelgar, your heart is as stout as the mountains and I am more thankful than I can express to have you at my side, but I need to do this. It is my fight, whether it is just or not." She smiled at him then. "Besides, I need you to keep Neeshka from picking half the pockets of Neverwinter's nobility while they watch the fight."

"All right…" he yielded unhappily, his voice gruff. "But...look. That Lorne fellow, he carries himself like a warrior. He's dangerous...so...just...be careful."

She knew the Ironfist had a softer side than he showed, but his concern genuinely touched her. "I will, Khelgar, I promise." She kissed his rough cheek when she bid him goodnight, and smiled when he blushed furiously, his cheeks almost matching his coppery beard.

"I will see your friend out, then return." said Hlam. "May Tyr's justice fall upon us all."

He returned moments later, looking a somewhat amused. "Your companions will have to leave you alone for the first phase of the Rite," he said. "It is tradition," he added, as though he doubted her companions would behave themselves.

In the courtyard outside the temple, Casavir had struggled long over whether to offer himself as her champion. He didn't doubt her ability, but he still longed to protect her from that troll of a Luskan. The man was a monster, and the thought of her facing him alone made him feel ill. He also desperately longed for a way to show her his devotion, his gratitude for all she had done for him. The Luskan's head would be a gift to lay at her feet. And if he perished, then his own life would be that gift. And so he went into the Temple.

As he stood in the anteroom of the Temple, awaiting the completion of the first part of the Rite, he was touched when he overheard the dwarf's impassioned offer. The gruff and abrasive fellow had a good heart, and if he himself perished, in the combat tomorrow or in a future battle, Casavir hoped the dwarf would continue to lend Raewyn his axe. And he smiled to hear Raewyn's response, thoughtful of the Ironfist, even under these trying circumstances. Her care for each of them was utterly genuine, and all of them responded to her with true loyalty. Thought he still did not trust him, nor likely would he ever, he had noticed that even Bishop seemed to respond to her respect and kindness with more humanity than Casavir would have thought possible. In his experience, such a thing was rare, and it was this realization that firmed his resolve.

After the Ironfist left, Raewyn settled into her vigil. She wondered, as she had all evening, if Casavir would come to her. She had almost convinced herself she imagined the affection in his voice when they had spoken after Ember a few days before. She had meant what she said to him; she had been close to despair until the hope in his eyes had restored her hunger for life. She hadn't had the chance to tell him that it was life with him she longed for. He had fled from her then, and she had feared she had destroyed their friendship with her near-confession. But then he shared with her the heartbreak that had driven him from Neverwinter.

Certainly they were still friends, or he would not have shared his past with her. But he still seemed to withdraw as suddenly as he opened up. She had to admit she had no idea what the paladin truly thought of her. She also realized that she had spent almost all of her vigil so far thinking about him, instead of the very serious fight before her. Then a stir echoed in the vaulted hall of the temple, and she smiled. She had felt him almost before she heard him.

"Forgive me, I did not mean to disturb the Rites." His deep voice echoed a little in the gloom of the temple."Or disturb you."

"You're not disturbing me, Casavir." She turned to him, grateful for his presence. "I'm very glad you are here." She touched his shoulder briefly as he came to stand beside her.

"I was troubled. I thought perhaps by seeking you out, that I could help somehow. I know something of knightly combat, more so than your opponent, I suspect."

Lorne? Knightly combat? The thought was so incongruous she almost laughed out loud. Only a man as charitable as Casavir could even presume Lorne Starling would know anything at all of knightly combat. But he had continued.

"Are you familiar with the etiquette of the duel?"

She was, more or less, but she indicated that she would be happy for any insights he could give her. It was impossible to know what small thing might change the course of the fight that awaited her.

"Do not yield to Lorne. If there is a chance you can still win, keep fighting, for Lorne will not accept your surrender." He felt a stab of anguish at the thought of her foundering under that Luskan monster's blade, but pushed aside the fear that rose in him. To his surprise, however, she smiled at his words.

"No, I don't imagine that he would. And what of him, should I accept his surrender, in the unlikely event he should offer it?" Her voice was troubled.

"That must be as you judge best, my lady. If you do so, be careful, neither the rules of the contest nor Luskan 'honor,'" he tinged the word with contempt "prevent him from feigning surrender in order to attack when your guard is down."

"Indeed, I suspected as much. Anything else?"

"Any weapons or spells are permitted in the arena. Each combatant is expected to fight to the best of their ability, with all the resources at their disposal." At her nod he continued. "Lorne's strength is in close combat; as such, there is no dishonor in keeping him beyond arm's reach." She was skilled with a bow—much more so than he himself, in fact—but rarely used it, feeling as he did that for one who could wield a blade, it was something of a coward's weapon. She nodded again, and he suspected her thoughts ran along similar lines.

He paused a moment, choosing his next words carefully. "...And if you do not wish to face him, know that I will gladly serve as your champion, if you would permit it."

She turned to him, tears sparkling on her lashes. "There is no one I would consider a finer champion, Casavir. And I am more than honored that you would offer. But…" She hesitated, seeing in his eyes how fiercely he longed to fight on her behalf. The knowledge warmed her, though she knew that to turn down his offer would pain him, no matter her reason. But she also knew her need to see this through herself because of Lorne's connection to her past was a something Casavir, more than anyone, would understand. She took one of his large, strong hands in both her small ones.

"This is something I have to do on my own; it is important to me. I know Lorne, or I did a long time ago. For whatever he has become now, Lorne was once a Harborman. I remember him from when I was a child. His mother was like a foster mother to me; his little brother was my best friend from the first time I could walk. I cannot ask another to do this for me." She stopped, lost for a moment in the past. She returned her gaze to Casavir's. "Please understand, I do not want you to think I don't cherish your offer, because I do…."

"I understand, and I admire your conviction." His heart ached that this man's demise would be another burden she would have to bear, even as he did understand her need to bear it. "My sorrow that you must face him like this, but I am certain that you shall see to it that justice finds Lorne at last."

He brought his other hand up to take her hands in his. "May Tyr guide your blade tomorrow, and may the people of Ember grant strength to your weapons."

"Thank you, Casavir. Your faith, too, gives strength to my blade, and to my heart."

They stood a moment, their hands joined, both wanting to say so much more, but neither having the words. Then suddenly remembering something, the paladin spoke again.

"This is something someone gave me once, and I need it no longer." He drew from his belt a silver flask, beautifully worked with the emblem of Tyr on one side, and a proud eagle on the other. He placed it in her hand and closed her fingers around it. "Make use of it tomorrow, and it will have served its purpose. It is a ritual flask, it will heal you and also convey a blessing upon you."

Raewyn took it reverently, her fingers tracing the scrolling metalwork. She looked back up at him, and on impulse, laid her hand on his cheek. Casavir leaned into her touch, warmed at the rare moment of intimacy.

"Then I shall be doubly blessed, for I already have a blessing on me….you." she whispered.

He closed his eyes as her tenderness washed over him, and softly as a breath, he brushed his lips across her brow.

"Good night, my lady."

"Good night, Casavir. And thank you."

He took his leave of her, but rather than returning to the Flagon, he knelt in the shadows of the temple and watched with her, adding to her vigil his own prayers for her safety, in the coming challenge, and always.

When the dawn broke at last, Raewyn met the day with a sense of hope and strength she had not felt since before she first set foot in Ember. And when the fight was over, Casavir's were the first eyes she sought. She saw that his eyes glowed with admiration and encouragement for her, and knew that they would win. Whatever the coming fight entailed, they would win.


	14. Chapter 14: Celebrations, Cut Short

The companions knew that the calm would not last, but nevertheless, they felt they deserved one night at least to take it easy. With the trial and appeal by combat behind them, they were happy to obey Lord Nasher's orders to relax, and gathered at the Flagon to celebrate.

After lounging in the bathing room longer than any of the rest, Raewyn finally padded down the stairs to join her friends. She had chosen a full skirt and a simple bodice in deep green over a white shift. She had threaded a green ribbon through her hair, and instead of her customary boots, her feet were clad in soft slippers. She had nothing on Neeshka for stealth, but her slippered feet, together with the music and laughter from the common room meant she had a chance to watch her companions for a bit before they spied her.

Most of them had left their armor and weapons in their rooms. Elanee and Shandra both wore simple dresses not unlike her own, and even Casavir had put aside his plate armor for once, opting for a midnight blue tunic that set off his dark hair and blue eyes most flatteringly. He and Khelgar were sharing stories of battles fought, won, and lost. Naturally, Bishop still wore his hunting leathers, and his bow was not far from his hand. 'I'll bet he even hangs on to it when relieving himself!' Raewyn thought to herself, and giggled at the thought.

Shandra heard her, and moved closer to talk. "What's so funny, you?"

Raewyn lifted her chin to gesture to the ranger, who was sitting in the corner in what could only be described as a grand sulk, bow propped on the table beside him.

"Do you suppose the takes that thing into the bushes with him?" Shandra asked, shaking her head.

Raewyn laughed aloud to hear her friend echo her own thoughts. "I bet he does, and everywhere else, too!" They both giggled helplessly as they thought of other outrageous circumstances in which the dour Bishop would no doubt retain his bow.

Casavir, who seemed to have some sixth sense for where she was at all times, 'except, apparently, when I am bathing,' he thought ruefully, had spied her as she stood in the doorway, and watched her with something like awe in his face. At the sound of her laugh, Khelgar turned to see what Casavir was staring at, and chuckled.

"Close yer mouth, tin-can, yer lettin' the flies in." The jibe was delivered with good humor; he and Casavir had become friends, and privately Khelgar was pleased see the growing affection between the paladin and his leader. He found he truly cared for the girl, and he knew the 'tin can' would never fail to protect her. And if he kept the oily ranger away from her, as he seemed determined to do, so much the better.

"I am only relieved to see her looking hale and well." came the stiff reply. "The battle today was a difficult one…."

"And had ye healed her any more, she'd be once more a babe in blankets. She's fine, man."

"Yes, she is." It was spoken softly enough the dwarf could ignore it, and he chose to do so, though he shook his head in amusement.

By now, Raewyn had moved into the room, and was talking and laughing with several of the others. Even the normally reserved Elanee was laughing lightly as Grobnar stomped around on one of the tables, mimicking the antics of Raewyn's fallen opponent.

Khelgar left the table he'd been sharing with Casavir and approached the rest of the group, raising his tankard. "To Raewyn Thorne, our leader, our friend, and one hell of a fighter!" he shouted, and the rest happily joined in and drank. "Let's just be glad you're on our side, lass!"

Laughter greeted his jest. Raewyn looked around the room, savoring the warmth of the company. She met Casavir's stare as she did so. His face wore the usual mask of passivity, but his gaze bore an intensity that made her shiver. Tilting her hear to the side quizzically, she held his eyes for a long moment, until a laughing Shandra grabbed her arm leading her to an area hastily cleared for dancing.

As she joined her friends, the penny whistle and the fiddle sent out the bright opening skirl of a lively reel. Soon the women and several of the townsfolk were dancing in a twisting line over and under the clasped hands of the other dancers. Around and around they went, giggling as they became entangled. The rest of the crowd whistled and clapped in time with the music. As she danced, Raewyn felt Casavir's eyes upon her, and glanced his way whenever she came around to face him.

With a final flourish, the tune ended, and Khelgar called for a dwarven folk-tune. He bowed before Raewyn and asked her to join him. She didn't know any Ironfist dances, but she had heard Khelgar belting out various songs (mostly drinking songs), on their travels, so she thought it could be nothing too complicated. She took his hand with a flourished curtsey.

Soon she was in the center of a bewildering storm of stomping, whirling dwarf. Laughing, she glanced at Casavir, who now met her gaze with a raised eyebrow and a twinkle in his blue eyes, seeming to enjoy her predicament. She grinned back at him, rolling her eyes and shrugging dramatically. In response, a smile, a genuine smile lit his face, softening his features.

Her heart leapt in her breast. It occurred to her that she had never really seen him smile, and she realized on the spot it was a beautiful sight; one that she wanted to see more often. She flashed him coquettish grin in return. She also realized she was flirting with him, and added the notion that 'flirting with Casavir was fun' to her list of the night's discoveries. And if it would result in more smiles from him, she decided, she would most certainly keep doing it.

With the tune ending, she begged off the dance floor, and leaned against a table, catching her breath. She made it a point to steal smiling glances in the paladin's direction, his unwavering gaze making her warmer than even the press of the dance. A young couple from among the townsfolk came up to her, and she talked with them a while. When they had gone, she glanced away to see Khelgar speaking to the musicians again, and groaned a little. Another round of mysterious Ironfist of hopping and stomping was beyond her. Hoping for a respite, she looked around, unable to spot either Casavir or Shandra.

She turned toward the counter, to see Casavir heading her way with a glass of wine in each hand. Intercepting him, Khelgar neatly relieved him of the glasses, and gave him a hard shove in Raewyn's direction.

"What…?" the startled paladin began, just before he fetched up against Raewyn, Khelgar's well-placed shove forcing them both onto the now empty dance floor. Raewyn's bewilderment mirrored Casavir's, until the first stately measures of a Neverwinter court dance similar to a pavanne filled the room. So that's what the dwarf had been up to!

Left little alternative, both of them already in position on the dance floor, Casavir gallantly offered her his arm.

"Will you honor me, my lady?"

"The honor is mine." she accepted, then glaring over her shoulder at the gleefully unrepentant Ironfist. She resolved to scold the meddlesome dwarf later. Or perhaps to thank him.

None of the other townsfolk and likely none of her companions except Sand would know this dance, so it appeared they would be dancing alone, and the room grew hushed. She stood opposite Casavir, suddenly nervous. She swallowed hard against the butterflies in her stomach as the dance began. They stepped together, he placing one hand on her hip, she resting her palm on his shoulder. Despite the warmth of the room, and the warmth of him through the thin wool of his tunic, she shivered to feel the sculpted muscle beneath her touch. He clasped her other hand in his large, calloused one with a tenderness that belied his power with a sword. They stepped in the pattern of the dance, their eyes locked. Raewyn felt like she was floating, drowning in pools of purest blue, aware only of the nearness of the man before her.

The cadence changed, and they faced opposite directions, right arms touching, palm to elbow, and circled each other slowly. It reminded Raewyn of the way they seemed to dance around each other, in slow measured steps, the distance between them never changing. She wondered if, as in the dance, they would ever circle closer? Or would they simply march this cadence around each other until whatever music drove them stopped?

As they circled, eyes locked, Casavir felt energy humming between them, almost crackling where they touched. His eyes never left hers, seeing in their emerald depths the same sense of breathless discovery he was feeling. How was it that this woman could affect him so, despite all he had been through, all he had left behind, never to be felt again?

They faced each other once more, and Casavir took her hand and spun her away from him only to spin her back again until she stood directly in front of him, her back against his chest. His breath hitched with her nearness, and he felt a desire he had not known he was still capable of feeling sear through him, fierce and white-hot.

Raewyn was certain her dizziness was not wholly due to the spinning pattern of their dance. When he spun her back to him, his arms surrounding her from behind, she had felt every contour of his powerful chest and the strength of his legs. The sight of him at the lake flashed unbidden in her mind. The feel of his body and the memory of his skin in the sunlight left her breathless. But she was also stunned to feel the evidence of his desire for her, and felt an answering flame sweep through her.

He spun her out and back again, this time bringing her to face him. She stumbled just slightly, leaning into him. She looked up at him, breathing hard, and he could feel the supple curves of her body pressed against him.

The desire that coursed through him pooled around his groin. 'Merciful Tyr, let me get through this dance without humiliating myself' he prayed. A few more circles around, and then with a final spin he brought her body flush against him, their legs entwined. Letting go her hand, he bent her over in a full dip, supporting her waist and head, his body curved over hers, his mouth inches from her own.

Raewyn's arms stole around his neck, letting out a startled squeak at the momentary sensation of falling. "Don't let go!" she whispered.

"I never will" he replied softly. Relaxing, secure in his arms, she pressed herself closer to him, her eyes falling from his stormy gaze to his sensuous mouth, so close to her own. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and his own gaze followed the motion. The room, their companions, even the music, all vanished, and only she and Casavir existed. She was certain he would kiss her, and she let her eyes drift shut, straining up towards him, her whole being focused on him…..

A sudden shout intruded on the moment, and they looked up. Casavir hastily set her upright and stepped back. She staggered a little, cold at the sudden loss of his heat.

"Thank you for the dance, my lady." he said stiffly, as though the intimacy of the last moment had never happened. He stalked off into the crowd.

"Of course." she said automatically. She was baffled. One moment the heat between them crackled and seared, and the next Casavir retreated as though he was ashamed of being close to her. 'Will I ever understand him?' she wondered, frustrated. She turned to face one of the young boys who had promised to help her in return for lodging under Duncan's roof. 'Clearly not this night.' She sighed.

"Are you Raewyn Thorne?" the boy asked.

"Yes, I am. What do you want with me?"


	15. Chapter 15: Intrigues

The boy, Wolf, told her Aldanon had come to the Flagon looking for her, mumbling about the shard. She gave him a gold piece for her trouble, and told him to have Duncan give him a hot meal.

"Thank you, lady!" He gave her a toothy grin and scampered off. Watching him go, she smiled, momentarily encouraged by his youth and enthusiasm. To be that young, untroubled by feckless wizards and fickle paladins.

With effort, she returned her thoughts returned to the issues at hand. Aldanon had news of the shard, which could mean almost anything. She glanced at the candles. It was too late to make the trek to Blacklake now. And then there was Casavir. She thought again about the dance, circling each other, always equidistant until a new measure pulled them together only to fling them apart again. She cared for him, deeply. If she was being honest, she loved him. She looked at him and saw something other than fighting, something beyond this insanity that had been her life since the githyanki had first appeared in West Harbor.

She also needed the paladin, not for his sword and shield, though they had kept her from harm more often than she could count. She needed him for his wisdom, his support. His friendship meant the world to her, and she didn't know if she had the courage to risk his companionship, even in hopes of loving him. She knew he cared for her, and it seemed that he desired her, at least physically, but he kept retreating...

With a growl of exasperation, she scrubbed her fingers through her hair, and headed to find Duncan.

"Hey, Duncan. Can you let everyone know to meet down here in the morning? I want to go see what Aldanon has dug up on the shards."

"I will, lass. Are ye alright? You look a little harried…."

"Yeah, I'm alright. Just the usual; dark lord rising, shadow priests out to kill me, mysterious shards...all in a day's work. Add in a psycho ranger with a crush, and a few non-communicative, utterly opaque, infuriatingly changeable friends…."

"Paladin running hot and cold on ya, lass?" At her look of shock he added, "Don't worry my dear, I won't be spreading it around. It's not hard to see he worships the ground you walk on. But he's a paladin; that's a heavy burden for any shoulders, even his. Together with what your facing...give him time, lass. Give him time."

"I don't know how much time we have, Duncan…." Raewyn felt the sting of tears and she choked back a sob, and her uncle pulled her into a hug.

"Thanks, Uncle. I seem to be doing that a lot lately."

"Nothing to worry about. You've got a lot on your shoulders. Get some rest."

"I'm heading up now. Good night, Duncan. Thanks again."

Only two days later they were racing through the streets of Neverwinter, praying to reach the merchant district in time. They hadn't a moment to lose, and Raewyn cursed Nasher's scheming for perhaps the hundredth time. If they had only known….

They'd gotten to Aldanon's home in time to stop a gang of thieves from killing Cormick, but Aldanon was gone, kidnapped by whomever had hired the thugs. Despite the removal of the githyanki from the picture, clearly someone besides Raewyn sought the shards and whatever information Aldanon had unearthed, though the question remained who the mastermind behind the abduction had been. Aladanon's assistant told them something more disturbing, however. There was another shard in Neverwinter, and it had been passed among four nobles, three of whom had been murdered. It was those very murders that had closed down Blacklake when Raewyn first arrived. The shard itself was now in the hands of the last survivor of the four, a Lord Cyril Tavorick.

Naturally, Lord Nasher had sent Raewyn to Tavorick, hoping to protect him from his compatriots' fate. And protect him they had. With the welcome help of five seasoned Graycloak veterans under the command of Captain 'Black' Ballard, a man Casavir himself had once served with, Raewyn and her band had held off wave after wave of succubi, Erinyes, and imps. Finally retreating to make their stand within a heavily warded crypt that lay beneath Tavorick's estate, they had been trapped there by the appearance of a monstrous herzou demon.

In what seemed like the only lucky stroke they'd had that night, the massive demon, fond of bragging as demons tend to be, had revealed the true nature of the attack. Shoving its massive snout to the door, it snuffled loudly after the defenders. It recognized Tavorick first, but then seemed to find Raewyn of interest.

"And who are you, my mortal friend? You have a wonderful scent about you. Beneath your weariness and your sweat, you smell of lives shattered, and hopes trod underfoot."

Raewyn gave a shudder as the demon seemed to unearth her deepest fears. Nevertheless, however apt she felt the creature's observation might be, Raewyn was in no mood to philosophize. "Never mind who I am, demon. We can certainly smell you, too. Who are you, and who sent you?"

"I am Qaggoth-yeg, leader of hordes, cleaver of babau and bebilith, the hunter who does not tire."

"Tire or not, your hunt stops here."

The demon laughed, a sickening sound like flesh-covered boulders grinding together.

"My hunt matters not. My Master also hunts. He hunts the shard, and the girl who fled with it."

Raewyn cursed fluently as she realized what had happened, but she had no time to confirm or explain her conclusion. Apparently Qaggoth-yeg had said all he intended to, for the beast lunged at the door. The resulting shower of fractured stone proved Tavorick's wards useless. All of the defenders were tired and bloodied, but together they managed to stop the monstrous demon without losing any of either Ballard's Graycloaks or Raewyn's group.

As soon as the beast fell, Raewyn whirled on Tavorick. "You don't have the shard, do you?You'd better explain yourself." Her companions looked at her in puzzlement, not understanding. Tavorick at least had the grace to look crestfallen as he answered.

"I told Nasher this hoodwinking business wouldn't work, but does he listen to the eighty-four-year-old? Of course not. No, I haven't got the shard. Haven't had it since yesterday. Passed it to Melia, in fact, just before you got here." He raised a hand, forestalling Raewyn's next question. "I do still have a few wits left, you know...Melia's one of the Nine. She's holed up at the Moonstone Mask now with a half-dozen guards, posing as patrons."

Her companions' faces looked grim as understanding dawned. Raewyn glanced to Casavir, knowing he would be remembering the raid on the Mask years ago, the same one that he had fought to prevent. His face was a mask of anger; anger she shared in full measure. Instead of including Raewyn in their plans, Neverwinter had once again thrown innocent lives into harm's way in the service of their intrigues. As a result, she was left to save not only Melia and the unsuspecting guards, but all the other innocents at the Mask as well. She looked back at the paladin, and seeing his thunderous expression, knew he was thinking similar thoughts. Now they could only hope they got to the Moonstone Mask in time. And so began their mad dash through the streets...

They were too late. Chaos greeted their entrance. Several young women lay dead on the first floor, and from the upstairs came screams and unnatural howls. An elegant woman in her late thirties, whom Raewyn assumed must be Ophala came running, frantic.

"Thank the gods you're here! A man with glowing tattoos on his face came in here, with a pack of demons - and he's still upstairs now. He murdered Evlyn at the door, and if he's not stopped... he'll...tear the place apart! Please, you must do something!"

They dashed up the stairs to find the brothel now looked more like a war zone. They fought past more of the same demons and imps that had attacked Tavorick's home before finding the same sorcerer they had glimpsed in the githyanki lair.

"If you have come for the shard, you are too late." He uttered a few arcane words, and two massive hellhounds appeared. No sooner had they sprung at the companions, than the sorcerer himself vanished in a cloud of acrid smoke. Once the hellhounds lay defeated, they found Melia and her guards among the fallen.

"Dammit to all the the nine bloody hells and back!" Her companions froze, staring at her outburst. "Why in blazes didn't Nasher just tell us that Melia was bringing the shard here? And why here, anyway? A place full of unarmed women and their...guests." her distaste was evident, but not her real concern. "He might as well have painted targets on their backs. Why not have her take it somewhere with more than a handful of guards? Dammit, dammit!"

Her companions, themselves busy trying to help the few wounded and cover the many dead, had no answer for her. Casavir laid a hand on her shoulder silently, fully understanding her frustration. They had to report back to Nasher, and neither was looking forward to it, but first Raewyn faced the unpleasant task of speaking with Ophala.

When Raewyn and her companions came back downstairs, Raewyn went to speak to the proprietor herself, hoping to keep the woman away from her companions, Casavir in particular. It was a bitter twist of fate that had forced them to pursue the shard here at all, and with a muttered curse, Raewyn added a yet another tally to her list of Lord Nasher's sins on account of it.

Much to her distaste, the older woman seemed more concerned about the damage to the decor than the helpless girls or loyal guards who had lost their lives. Raewyn briefed her in tightly clipped phrases, struggling to contain her dislike of the courtesan. Her dislike was not solely on account of her treatment of Casavir (for whose sake alone she could have cheerfully throttled the woman), but even in this brief conversation, Raewyn found Ophala to be manipulative, petty, and materialistic. She was relieved when she had finished her instructions for Melia and the fallen guards upstairs and moved to leave. The sooner she and Casavir left this place the better. As she turned however, Ophala ducked around her and rushed over to Casavir.

"Casavir!" she fawned, smiling, making her voice low and sensual. "I thought that was you! It's been so very long. Won't you come and talk with me?"

If possible, Casavir, already ill at ease, grew even more tense and remote as Ophala tried to plaster herself to him. "No, Ophala, there is nothing to say." He kept his chin up, refusing to look at the woman.

"Oh, but my dearest, so much has happened, and things are different now. I have missed you so. Haven't you missed me, Casavir?" Raewyn rolled her eyes at the sugary insincerity of the woman's voice.

She might as well have sought the favor of a statue, for he glared straight ahead in stony silence.

"Come now, you owe me that much, Casavir. Just come and sit with me for a while…"

Casavir still said nothing, and would not acknowledge the woman attempting to drape herself on him. Still she persisted. Did the woman have no shame?

Raewyn knew Casavir could handle himself, and didn't really need her to intervene. However, he would never speak harshly to any woman, however vile. She also knew how much he hated this kind of display. He would simply suffer in silence until Ophala withdrew, something that was clearly unlikely without intervention. But Raewyn could see how dearly his restraint was costing him; she saw it in every line of his carriage, in the muscle twitching in his cheek. She had seen enough.

Raewyn strode to the pair, and none too gently detached Ophala from the livid paladin, taking up a stance between them. Her voice, like her gaze, was cold and hard, all necessary courtesy now thrust aside, but Casavir heard the barely repressed fury behind her words. "No, Ophala, he owes you nothing, and he clearly does not wish to speak to you." She felt rather than heard his gratitude at her back.

Ophala stared at her, aghast. "And what have you to say about it, swamp girl?" This time, she heard Casavir's intake of breath; he might not speak harshly to Ophala on his own behalf but he would leap to her defense in a heartbeat. Without looking back at him, she held up her hand to forestal his comment, and he subsided. Ophala saw it too, and it only angered her further.

"Oh, I have plenty to say about it. But I am certain you do not wish to hear it aired publicly. Nor do I think you would wish the Council to become privy to your machinations, _madam_." She made of the title a clear insult. "Do not give me a reason to feel chatty when I speak with Lord Nasher a quarter hour hence."

"Casavir, will you let…this…this camp follower of yours speak to me this way?"

His voice was like coarse gravel as he replied, finally meeting her eyes with his own icy gaze. "My lady addresses you better than you deserve, Ophala. I would not ask her to do differently even if it were my place to do so, but it is _my_ honor that I serve _her_."

Ophala, red-faced, looked back and forth between the paladin and the small redhead, her mouth opening and closing as she floundered for a retort. Raewyn fixed her with a hard stare before turning her back on the now furious courtesan. Putting Ophala in her place and thwarting her attempt to rile Casavir had taken some of the edge off of her frustration with the last two days' intrigues, and she faced Casavir with a mischievous glint in her eye. She thought she saw his shoulders relax just a fraction, and she flashed him a reassuring smile. "Let us quit this place, Casavir. It is not worthy of either of us."

Clearly enjoying Ophala's consternation, he offered her his arm with an uncharacteristically flourished bow and an answering flicker of humor twitching the corners of his mouth. "As you wish, my lady."

They left then, leaving the mistress of the Moonstone Mask staring daggers at their backs.


	16. Chapter 16: Missing Wizard

Raewyn was actually happy to be on the road again and out of Neverwinter. As much as she was coming to love the city and admire its people, she was still angry about the recent round of court plotting and gameplay, and the toll it had taken in innocent lives. She had mentioned her frustration at being kept in the dark to Lord Nasher, but found it hard to press the point in light of Nasher's distress over the loss of Melia; she had been one of the Nine, his own hand-selected elite guard, after all. Thinking of her own companions, she understood his anguish, and realized that Nasher had not taken lightly the decision to put her at risk. It still rankled, but she let it go and gave Nasher the details of what transpired. Once she finished her report, Nasher broached another concern.

"And another matter has recently been brought to our attention. It seems that we have an even larger problem within Neverwinter than we first thought…"

"I hope we are not intruding." came a voice from behind Raewyn She turned to see a plainly dressed older woman standing behind her. "It seems Neverwinter is quite active, of late."

Nasher regarded the newcomer coldly. "I said I would send for you later, after I am done here."

"My apologies, my Lord Nasher. But the conversation before was a bit brief, and I did not think it would be best for both our cities to wait any longer... forgive my impatience."

Sand leaned in to whisper so only Raewyn could hear him. "Careful. Hosttower mage...and high-ranking as well. Whoever she is, she's powerful... and she's masking it well, too." Even at a whisper, Raewyn could tell that Sand was impressed in spite of himself, and his dislike for Luskan.

"Sir, I have nothing more; I can leave if you have other matters to attend to…"

"No, no." Nasher held up his hand, reassuring her. "I want you here, this merits your attention."

"Ah, is this the Harborman... sorry, the Squire I have heard so much about?"

Nasher nodded. "This is Sydney Natale, our new ambassador from Luskan. She arrived earlier, and I had hoped to speak to you privately before the three of us met. Her associate is Khralver, I believe-"

"Well met, my lady. It is my pl-"

"Khralver is of no consequence, he is here to assist me, silently." The last word was almost a growl, and Raewyn looked at the woman with rising distaste. "The news I bring concerns you, Lord Nasher, and I most of all, so it is fitting you have arrived. I had hoped to speak to you before leaving in any event."

"What news from Luskan concerns me, ambassador?"

"You have recently had trouble with those you believe affiliated with Luskan, when in fact, they are not connected to or supported by us at all. There are four towers in Luskan, each ruled by a skilled mage... and we four work tirelessly to aid Luskan and its people. But there is a self-styled "Master of the Fifth Tower," who, as his title suggests, has... overstepped his bounds." She gave a dismissive snort. "This mage is a man by the name of Garius, "Black" Garius, I believe is yet another title he uses. Silly, really, but he believes he casts a longer shadow than he does." She raised an eyebrow at Raewyn, who met her taunt with an impassive stare despite her own irritation, but she continued.

"Nevertheless, he has been quite... industrious as of late... almost as industrious as you, my dear Harborman. But he is not affiliated with our city or its interests - unlike you and your 'long-standing' ties to service in Neverwinter." This time jibe was obvious, and Reawyn clenched her teeth, biting back a retort.

Nasher broke in sharply, clearly as irritated by Natale as she was. "Ambassador Natale informed me earlier that she believes Black Garius began the war with their island neighbor, Ruathym."

"Yes. And it has served as a convenient means to distract Luskan from its real priorities. Regardless, Ruathym was an aggressor for quite some time, so action needed to be taken, regardless. You see, Ruathym believed that Luskan had stolen a precious artifact from them; a book called the Tome of Iltkazar."

Sand once again whispered in her ear. "I've heard of it, though I couldn't even say for certain it exists."

"Ambassador, what has this to do with Neverwinter?"

"It is a powerful artifact...and not only can its sudden disappearance lead two nations to war, but in the wrong hands, it can be used to channel tremendous power. That is a matter we feel best left to Neverwinter...the matter is a domestic one, as it turns out. But that is not all that concerns us. We believe that Black Garius has made an alliance with someone known as "the King of Shadows," a man or creature of whom we know very little. Garius was no doubt able to steal the Tome of Iltkazar with help from this ally, and use it to bolster his armies with golems awakened by the Tome."

"So how is Garius' attempt to raise a golem army a domestic matter for Neverwinter?"

"Unfortunately, his ambitions do not end there. We have received word that he intends to perform a powerful ritual within the lands of Neverwinter, with knowledge he has stolen from the very King of Shadows he serves. I have heard of the loss of your local sage, Aldanon, but I suspect he is a part of this."

"You accuse Aldanon of complicity with Garius?"

"He is not guilty of being Garius' compatriot, if that is your belief. I think in such an instance, a kidnapping would not have been needed. I suspect he was kidnapped to provide the last of the missing pieces to the ritual; a ritual that will steal power from the 'King of Shadows' and grant it to Garius. The exact powers granted are not known to me, or my fellow mages, which is a further cause for concern. But I have told you all I know."

Raewyn turned to Nasher, restraining her frustration with effort. "My Lord, I am not sure how this information, vague as it is, is useful to us…"

Natale surged ahead before Nasher could answer her, and Raewyn hid a smile at his expression. "We felt it was not only our duty to clear up any ties you might believe exist between Luskan and this criminal, but also inform you of his whereabouts. He and his forces are in a ruined castle, Crossroad Keep, within Neverwinter lands. Normally, Luskan would not hesitate to take action against such a criminal, but with the confusion that has already occurred, we felt it was best to advise Lord Nasher, and you, of the situation and allow you to do what you feel is best."

"Why would he choose this ruined castle, Crossroad Keep? He has...sheltered in Luskan this long, why would he shed that pretense now?"

"It is... difficult to explain to someone not skilled in the arcane arts. Crossroad Keep was the site of a great battle in the past, the one against the King of Shadows, in fact. We believe that some of the power from that battle, his "essence" perhaps remains…."

"And you think this would allow a stronger tie to the King of Shadows if the ritual is performed there?"

"Correct. I see my expertise may be wasted with such a sharp mind at your command, Lord Nasher. But Garius is at Crossroad Keep, that we can say for certain."

Nasher dismissed the ambassador, rolling his eyes as she left. With a wry grin, Raewyn turned to Nasher. "What do we do now?"

Shandra rushed forward, unable to restrain herself. "How can we possibly be considering listening to this woman! These are the people are responsible for the death of Ember…."

"Shandra Jerro, the strength of Neverwinter comes from its citizens, and you have shown me that now." He paused, his voice kind, but stern. "But listen to me. There are greater threats to Neverwinter as we speak. What happened at Ember is unfortunate, but I believe the one responsible has been punished for that crime."

Raewyn turned to Shandra, hoping she would understand. "Shandra, this is not about one man, or one village. This is about Neverwinter, and it is about protecting what exists."

She ignored Raewyn. "Lord Nasher, I had a friend, Alaine at Ember, who barely escaped, but so many others…" Raewyn laid a hand on her arm, but she railed on.

"I know, Shandra, and I am sorry for their loss. But unless this Garius is stopped, I fear that another tragedy will occur, much greater than what occurred at Ember. Justice will come for those in time, but not today." He was quiet, looking with concern at Shandra. "And I need you to accept it. We all have burdens to bear, and if they must be carried so that the people of Neverwinter may be safe, that is what must be done."

Shandra subsided unhappily. Raewyn put an arm around her shoulder, resolving to speak with her at length about this as soon as she could.

"What would you have me do, Lord Nasher?"

"I have already dispatched the Many-Starred Cloaks and some supporting troops to Crossroad Keep, and I want you to go as well. Garius must be stopped. I want you to leave as soon as you are able to travel. Rescue Aldanon, and you are do everything in your power to stop this ritual Garius intends to perform.

"I will, my Lord."

"Excellent. I am glad I can count on you."


	17. Chapter 17: To Take the Keep

Raewyn didn't trust this ambassador any more than the last one, but Nasher seemed confident that her information was accurate. Nasher's own investigation had confirmed the intelligence provided by Natale. Garius and his Shadow Priests had indeed taken possession of the old fortress known as Crossroad Keep. The Keep, once one of Neverwinter's strongest defenses before being ravaged by war, lay just two days' travel from Neverwinter. The ambassador's evidence indicating that Garius was preparing a major ritual of some kind at the Keep seemed reliable as well, and they had determined the ritual would be done in approximately a week's time.

As they headed back to the Flagon to prepare for their departure, she took Shandra aside.

"Shandra, I know this is hard, and I don't trust that Natale as far as I trust…well, Bishop! But this threat is bigger than Ember."

"I know that, but it seems so unfair. Luskan just threw Ember away, even if they weren't directly responsible. They didn't even bury the dead! And now we're acting like their allies…."

Raewyn laughed. "I don't know if I'd go that far. I don't think Nasher trusts Luskan or its ambassador any more than you or I do. The whole time he was dealing with that woman, or Torio, in fact, he was grinding his teeth. I'm surprised the whole court didn't hear it!"

Shandra laughed at that, and Raewyn continued. "But he recognizes that if what she told us is true, then it could threaten Luskan's future as much as Neverwinter's. I am certain he intends to keep Luskan on a very short leash, and the entire mess with Ember is the biggest reason. Shandra, I'm not letting Luskan itself off the hook. But while we know that Lorne acted on Garius' orders, it still may be that Garius acted for his own reasons, not Luskan's."

"I know. And I know we need to deal with this, I just don't know how you manage to balance these things."

"Neither do I, my friend, neither do I."

So they were on the road again, traveling to Crossroad Keep to assist Neverwinter's mages, the Many-Starred Cloaks. They were to retake the Keep and stop Garius from completing the ritual he was planning. Raewyn was hopeful that once they had stopped Garius, the threat of the King of Shadows and the Shards would be over, and she could return to a normal life. She pondered what that life would be, however. For all her fond memories of West Harbor, she really couldn't see herself going back there permanently. Even if she wished to return home, she now had obligations to Neverwinter which made it unlikely anyway. As she considered it, she really didn't have any idea what her life might be like after her 'quest' was over, or what the responsibilities of a squire would really be like. She rather hoped she wouldn't end up having to step and fetch for Grayson after all. And she hoped she would not simply lose track of her companions. The thought of never seeing Neeshka, never hearing Khelgar's gruff voice, was painful. She supposed she'd even miss Bishop's barbed comments and biting innuendos. And then there was a certain paladin.

"So, Casavir, what are you going to do when this is over?"

"My lady?"

"When we aren't dashing off on mission after mission, when we can… I don't know, get back to life, whatever that means."

Casavir didn't know what to say. While he had undertaken Raewyn's quest convinced of its worth as well as hers, he had to admit he had given little more thought to 'after' this task than he had to 'after' his self-appointed task at Old Owl Well, though for very different reasons. For him, the matter was simple; his future lay with her, and….

That thought brought Casavir up short, literally. He stopped mid-step on the trail, nearly causing Raewyn to collide with him.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, my lady, I was just thinking….I will catch up to you in a moment" He stepped off the trail, leaving Raewyn looking over her shoulder in puzzlement.

Once Raewyn and the others had gotten a few yards ahead, Casavir ambled along behind them, thinking hard about Raewyn's question, and his response. On second review, he realized his first unfiltered thought had been correct; she was his future. If he survived beyond the task ahead, he could only imagine that he would continue to follow her if she would have him. If she were to send him from her, he didn't know what he would do. For all that Neverwinter had embraced him as one of Raewyn's companions, he suspected a return to his former position was unlikely, even if he desired it. He didn't really know if he did desire it, either. All he desired was to be at her side.

He stopped to consider what she might want. Clearly she herself was thinking about it. They all were. The hope of Garius' defeat and an end to the threat he posed was a heady one. But Raewyn had never spoken of what she wanted…. Then he recalled that she had, as she'd sheltered in his arms outside Ember, almost broken by the weight of death and responsibility. Almost, but not quite; she'd said that he himself gave her hope. _"You make me want to try, you make me want...a future. I want life, Casavir. I want…."_ Her companions hadn't let her finish, but…. No, he berated himself, _he_ hadn't let her finish. Had Shandra's voice not interrupted them, he would still have fled, as little as he liked to admit it. He'd been too afraid to hear the end of that sentence.

And now? He thought of their dance at the Flagon, and the powerful longing he had felt. He thought of her smile as she'd brought him back to the Temple, to be reconciled with Hlam and with Tyr. He thought of her quiet support and reassurance when he'd told her about Ophala. Entering the Moonstone Mask had been difficult, and Ophala's overtures had been torturous, not because he cared for her any longer, but because it brought back the agony of her betrayal, and his own acute sense of failure. He smiled to himself then, replaying in his mind Raewyn's fierce protectiveness as she had put the courtesan in her place. Just as she had the day they had gone to the temple, she had managed, in the space of a few sentences, to lay another of his ghosts to rest, and the memory of Ophala no longer had any power over him. It seemed she'd always known what he was feeling, and what he needed, and been there to provide it, as naturally as breathing.

It struck him then that perhaps what he wanted was to be able to do the same for her. If only there would be a place for him to do so. He was still wrestling with his future as he arrived in the half-prepared campsite. He laid out his bedroll and sank down, not expecting to sleep. Nevertheless, as he chased his thoughts in circles, sleep overcame him at last.

_Casavir was dreaming, the same dream yet again. He'd dreamt it over and over, since his first flight from Neverwinter. His feet made no sound on the thick carpeting lining the halls of the Moonstone Mask. The familiar walls with their brocades and tapestries now seemed sinister, the leaping shadows of the torchlight making shapes writhe upon the walls. The looming shapes couldn't subdue the spring in his steps, however. He was here to see his love. He looked at the bundle of flowers he carried; Carenthan lilies, her favorite. She didn't know he was coming. He wanted to surprise her with the lilies, and if he could summon up the courage, he intended to ask her to be his betrothed._

_The dreamer fought against his dream self, pleading with him to stop, to leave. His dream self reached the end of the hall, and his hand reached for the doorknob. The dreamer's will screams for him not to open the door, for he knows what his dream self will find. Beyond that door lies only betrayal. He's dreamt this dream before, a hundred times, and he fears his heart cannot take the pain yet again. _

_The door opens, and suddenly he stands not in a silk-swathed boudoir, but in a sunlit meadow. All around him, meadowsweet, bluebells and tansy blossom, insects whirr lazily into the air, and a soft breeze makes waves ripple through the grasses and ruffles his hair. He looks around, bewildered. There is no room, no Moonstone Mask, no woman, no other man, no mocking laughter. He turns to see a woman before him after all. But this is not the woman his dream self had been seeking, though her red hair blazes in the sun. He feels he knows her, but he cannot seem to see her clearly through the shimmering haze of golden light that surrounds her. He thinks it might be Suné. _

_"Where am I? Why am I here? Why am I not at the Moonstone Mask?"_

_"There is no longer anything there for you."_

_He does not understand. This dream has been his burden, his trial, his penance for many, many nights._

_Her soft voice comes again, and he cannot see whether her lips move, but he thinks they do not. "You need never go back there, Casavir."_

_"There where shall I go?"_

_"Wherever you wish, my paladin. Your dreams are your own now. You are free."_

_She begins to shimmer, like a mirage in the heat, and in a final flicker of golden light she is gone. Her voice remains a moment longer, echoing on the wind. "You are free, Casavir, my paladin….."_

Casavir woke from his dream for the first time in many seasons not with a shout or a cry. He woke quietly, smiling.

Their arrival was met by Vale, the Captain of the Many-Starred Cloaks that Nasher had sent to the Keep. After quickly getting Raewyn and her companions under cover, he explained their plans for entering the Keep.

"Welcome. We are planning to hit them soon. The Luskans change guard shifts around this time, moving men in and out of the Keep."

"How many are there?"

"Around twenty Luskan soldiers in the courtyard—most of them asleep—and a handful more inside the Keep. Rushing them at the shift change is our best option. Most of the Luskans will still be half-asleep when we attack, anyway."

"Who else besides the soldiers?"

"The Arcane Brotherhood wizards will be more of a challenge, but we can handle them. Luskan is just probing our defenses. The Hosttower wouldn't risk too many wizards on this sort of mission." He grinned at her."Looks like there's still some time before the next shift change, so let's sit back and let them sleep a little longer, shall we?"

They overpowered the handful of soldiers in the courtyard easily, and within less than a candle's burn, they controlled the exterior of the Keep. Those within foiled them however, as they found the doors barred with magic.

Vale sent Raewyn and her companions to an underground cave system which led into the Keep. From there they entered easily, and got past another small cadre of Luskan guards. They found a confused Aldanon along the way, and sent him back to Neverwinter to inform Nasher of his escape. A pack of Shadow Priests guarding the ritual chamber in the basement of the Keep put up a bit more of a fight, but they faced the final doorway with little damage, ready to face Garius.

The sight before them was like something from a nightmare. Garius stood in the center of a huge room, wreathed in flames, while writhing waves of blood-red fire poured towards him from four others stationed around him. More Shadow Priests, each guarded by a Luskan fighter, ringed the room, adding their eerie chants to the crackling roar of energy that filled the chamber. At the crash of the door splintering inward, the four comprising the inner circle faltered, and the energy which had flowed smoothly began to whip wildly around the room. In the center, Garius staggered as the power he tried to harness grew unstable.

"You four, ignore them! Keep concentrating!"

The outer ring of mages and Shadow Priests broke their ring and began flinging spells at the intruders. Elanee and Sand began chanting, and over the din, and Raewyn heard the notes of Grobnar's lute, filling her with renewed hope. Khelgar and Shandra dove to attack the frontmost of the fighters as Neeshka appeared behind one of he farthest, her wicked dagger caching the dark cleric unawares. Their blows, and those of Vale and his Many Starred Cloaks interrupted much of the magic directed at the companions, giving Raewyn and Casavir the opening they needed to charge the nearest of the four surrounding Garius.

They struck almost in unison, their powerful blows further disrupting the power pouring toward Garius, and he groaned, clearly weakened. His face contorted into a mask of rage as more and more of the power he had been drawing from the four flew aimlessly away.

"What... have you done to me?" He was gasping for breath, but he snarled out to his henchmen. "The rest of you - kill them!"

Garius' henchmen were all but finished, and Raewyn and Casavir moved to attack the two remaining mages still tied to Garius by bands of dark energy. As the last fell to Casavir's blade, the flames surrounding Garius leapt to the ceiling. Streams of pure black flew from him, engulfing the bodies of the four surrounding him, and they too burst into flame. A heartbeat later, Garius himself was wreathed in red and black fire. With an unearthly shriek he collapsed to the floor.

An uncanny silence followed, broken only by the soft crackling of the fires still dancing over the still form of Black Garius. For a long moment, no one said anything, all of them tense, waiting for...something else to happen.

"We stopped it! We did it!" It was Neeshka, who sounded less certain than her words implied.

"Did we?" Raewyn looked around. "I suppose we did."

Casavir looked uneasy. "We have prevented a great evil here, but something... something still feels wrong." He glanced around warily. "Perhaps it is simply the after effect of the ritual and its power."

Elanee shook her head. "No. The power here is what I felt at the heart of the Mere, and almost as strong. We have stopped this ritual, but we should remain on our guard. Shadow still touches this place, and these bodies."

"I know." said Raewyn. "It should be over, but somehow, I can't help feeling it's not." She, too looked around uneasily. "Let's get these out of here, and we can see if we can figure it out on the way back. Maybe Aldanon can tell us something—assuming of course he made it back to Neverwinter, and remembers any of this…"

With a nod of his own, Vale called out to his Lieutenant, "Sevann, get some men down here to haul this Luskan filth out of the keep."

"Should we bury them, sir?"

"Don't bother. Just pile them up and burn them."

"Wait," Raewyn interrupted with a sudden thought. "Before you remove them we should see if there is anything that can shed some light on what they were trying to do here."

"Very well. As she finishes," Vale instructed his men, "take them out." His men hurried to comply. "And see if we can't get that glowing door upstairs open as well. Don't want to leave any surprises for the next tenant."

The companions made a rough camp in the lower courtyard of the Keep. It was late to start back to Neverwinter, but none of them wanted to remain within the walls. As they sat around a small fire, they found they all felt a similar sense of having missed something.

"I do not know, my lady, but I feel something remains amiss. Perhaps it simply seems to have been too easy to defeat Garius." Casavir considered, plainly having more to add. "And what of the shards you bear? The shards have been at the center of this from the beginning, yet they played no role here today."

"I wondered that too. This all began with the shard my father hid near West Harbor. And every step I have taken, more shards have appeared, as well as more people seeking them. So now we are here, and they have nothing to do with it? it doesn't make sense."

Elanee agreed. "The feeling of darkness I have felt since it entered the Mere is weaker, but it is not gone. The shadow taint lingers, but I cannot feel its source as I could before."

"And what about the golem?" asked Grobnar. "We still don't know who sent him. Or all those awful bat-women in the githyanki caves who were tormenting the poor thing."

"Yeah, and what about old glow-face from the Moonstone Mask?" Neeshka mused. "How does he fit in?"

They fell silent at last, accustomed to finding more questions for every answer they uncovered, but none of them happy about it. One by one they drifted off to sleep, Vale and his men keeping watch as they patrolled the Keep. None of them, not even the Many Starred Cloaks, happened to see the burst of eldritch energy that flared over the reeking pile where the Luskan bodies had been heaped and burned. They didn't see the four undead beings, wreathed in dark flames, rise from the charred offal and vanish into the night.


	18. Chapter 18: The Captain of the Keep

Aldanon had indeed made it back to Neverwinter, along with another of Garius' prisoners. When they arrived at Brelaina's office in Neverwinter's Merchant Quarter, she, Nevalle and Aldanon were arguing about the prisoner's fate.

Despite Aldanon's assurances that Zhjaeve was not a githyanki, but a githzerai, a related race with a long history of opposition to the githyanki, Raewyn felt uneasy with the cleric. Still, she accepted her offer of assistance, having few other viable sources of information to hand. And she acceded to her request to join Raewyn's company when Nevalle sent them back to the Keep.

They reached the gate after two days easy travel, and she saw they the Keep was already swarming with workmen. Far from fully repaired, it still bore signs of neglect, but much of the pall of decay that had clung to it when last they was here had dissipated.

Nevalle met them at the gate. "Well met, squire. Welcome back to Crossroad Keep."

"Thank you Sir Nevalle. It's looking much better, but…."

"It's seen better days...and will again. I have brought you back here under orders, Raewyn Thorne. For Lord Nasher has a new task for you." He gestured to Zhjaeve. "And perhaps our... guest can see what it is you'll be fighting for in the coming days."

"New task? Very well, what is it?"

Nevalle declined to answer immediately, but guided them into the courtyard before continuing, then turned to Raewyn.

"These people you see around you, they are now yours to command as you see fit. You are their Captain in Neverwinter's service. Make this Keep ready for war, gather troops to your banner, and be prepared to strike when this enemy reveals itself."

Raewyn's eyes went wide. "Command? Troops? Captain? Me? Why me?"

"You are the master of this keep now; you have earned it through service and blood." He smiled encouragingly. "And you have earned my trust...and that of Lord Nasher. This is your land. Defend it, for the sake of your people, and the sake of Neverwinter."

She stood staring after him as he turned and walked away, not seeing his smirk. She looked to each of her companions, seeing on their faces a mixture of surprise and confidence. On Casavir's face she saw a hint of pride.

Still stunned and not at all sure what to think, Raewyn begged leave of her companions, and went to the inn. The Phoenix Tail was apparently the first restoration project to have been undertaken, for it was nearly complete. Thankfully, they had enough rooms for her and her companions, and she made the arrangements quickly before slipping out for a walk through the farmlands just outside the Keep's crumbled walls.

She was on her way back when she stopped to watch the evening sun paint the clouds in shades of gold and crimson. She was there leaning against a fence when she saw Casavir amble over. Wordlessly, he walked over and leaned on the rail beside her. Together they enjoyed the quiet of the evening.

"Casavir, why me?"

"Because you have proven yourself capable and loyal."

"But I don't know anything about any of this. Building walls, raising an army, keeping all these people safe…."

"You know that tieflings and elves don't associate with each other?"

The sudden change of topic startled her, and she looked at him in puzzlement. "Yes, but what.…"

"And it is virtually unheard of for a druid to travel with others."

"Yes, I know, but…."

"And the Ironfist Clan has never, to my knowledge, admitted an outsider to its clanholds, nor has an outsider ever been sworn the ancient oath of friendship in blood and steel."

"Alright, Casavir, so my friends are an odd bunch. What are you getting at?"

"My lady," he said, still looking out over the fields. "The first thing I noticed when I met you was the way you managed to bring together such disparate individuals, people with no reason to even join forces. But you have not only made them allies, you led them to forge strong bonds of friendship and loyalty. Not just with you, but with each other."

"Well...thank you. But I didn't do anything, it just...it's them, they're just really good people…."

"But you keep them balanced. You stand in the center and keep them together, united."

"I...I suppose so."

"If you can stand at the center of such different people, different personalities, and create not just peace but real unity, certainly you can balance these tasks."

"You really think so?"

He looked at her then. "My lady, I believe you can do anything you set your will to." He looked back out across the fields. "Truthfully, my lady, I envy you."

"Why? I'm….terrified I mean, give me a blade and something to fight and I know what to do. But this..."

"My lady, not all fights can be won with a blade, as you well know. Making the people here stronger and safer is a different battle, but one no less vital to them, or to Neverwinter. You have been given a chance to do something real here, to protect people, to build a safe home for them."

"I hadn't thought of it that way."

"And, my lady, you were given this chance by Neverwinter, by Nasher himself."

She moved closer to him and put her hand on his arm. "Just the sort of chance you were hoping for but Neverwinter failed to give you. I am so sorry. Casavir, it's so unfair. It should be you, not me. You are so much more qualified, and you deserve this so much more than I do…."

"I am content, my lady. You have already given me a purpose, and to be at your side in this task is honor enough for me."

Raewyn studied the paladin's profile for a long moment. Finally he turned to her, an eyebrow quirked in inquiry.

"Thank you Casavir. I don't know what I would do without you." She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. He sprang back in surprise, but she thought she saw his lips curve up just a little. She turned to go then, leaving Casavir looking over the darkening fields, bemusement lighting his features.

On her way back into the Keep, Raewyn saw that Bishop had returned from one of his occasional hunts, in that almost magical way he had of simply appearing out of nowhere. Though he'd made yet another play to cajole Raewyn into his bed when they'd been back in Neverwinter after freeing Aldanon and stopping Garius, he'd been silent for the whole of their journey back to the Keep, plainly not happy with the group's new posting. Then again, he hadn't badgered either her or Casavir for the better part of two days, and Raewyn thought she might try to actually have a civil conversation with the ranger.

Raewyn went to sit beside him, hoping that if Casavir had followed her he would understand. He was perched atop one of the ruined walls just outside the reach of the torchlight. As was his habit, he watched the comings and goings with a watchful eye that belied his casual stance.

"Something you need, princess?" he drawled, not bothering to meet her eyes.

"Just wanted to talk to you for a minute. I know there's been a lot of tension, and I'm sorry for that."

"Are you now? Isn't that sweet." Contempt rolled off of him in waves, and Raewyn took a deep breath, refusing to let the ranger bait her.

"Bishop, I respect you, so I am going to be honest with you. I'm flattered by your attention, and it is true that I do kind of find you attractive, but you need to realize...you and me, it simply isn't going to happen."

"Because of the holy idiot?" he snarled. He was aware, even if Raewyn was not, that the 'holy idiot' had moved behind a section of the wall near them, and was listening to every word.

Raewyn smiled a little sadly. "That's part of it perhaps, but it's more that you and I… we just see the world so differently. Like this...mission, quest, whatever the hells it is I'm doing. You think it's a fool's errand, and that I'd be better off just getting as far away from the storm that's coming as I can, and waiting it out." She stopped with a bitter laugh. "And I'm not even sure you're not the smarter of us to think so." Bishop's gaze shifted to her in surprise at that.

"But this thing...it needs to be done. And if I can do it, I have to try. I could never find peace if I didn't try." She met the ranger's eyes, willing him to understand.

"Be careful you don't find a little too much peace. After all, there's peace aplenty if you're dead."

"Well, maybe, but I suppose there are some things worth risking my life for."

"Hells, you do sound just like the paladin. You're perfect for each other."

She smiled sadly again. "Casavir and I… I don't really know what we are. Or what we can be. But that's beside the point. Bishop, I know you've seen things, been through…."

"No, you don't know!" He hissed through clenched teeth.

"You're right, I don't. I can't begin to imagine what your life has held, and I would never claim to. But I do know what it's like to be trapped in a situation where there are no good choices, only maybe one that might help you make it to the next day. I don't fault you for surviving, or fighting to keep from being trapped again."

He fumed, breathing audibly though his nose. She couldn't know, and her words only infuriated him, even as a part of him recognized that she had come closer to understanding him...hells, to even bothering to _try_ and understand him than anyone else he had ever met.

"Bishop, I may not see things the same way you do, but I admire your strength, your resilience, your will to survive. And I respect your skills."

"You _need_ my skills, you mean."

"Yes, I do." She didn't bother denying it, knowing he would neither believe or respect her if she did. "But I also respect them, and I offer you my respect as well."

Bishop turned away from her, fighting his conflicting desires to scream at her, to pounce on her and kiss her senseless, to just let go all his defenses and lay his head in her lap and seek the comfort her words hinted at. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had said they admired anything about him, or offered him the respect and kindness she was now. Somewhere inside him, something stirred, and he felt a surge of longing for a home, a place to belong, people to care about him. It made his chest hurt, and it made him angry. Too long he had refused the balm of respect and caring.

After a moment of watching him struggle, Raewyn chose a different tack.

"Bishop, you will have a place with us at Crossroad Keep as long as you wish it. You are free to come and go as you like, but you will always be welcome. I will see that you always have the best equipment available, and whatever lodgings suit you, if any."

"And for that, I must be your lapdog, is that it? You can't tame me, you know." His mocking drawl held a note of uncertainty, as if he wished she'd try. Hells, maybe he did wish she'd try. Maybe he even wished she'd succeed. His amber eyes showed pain beneath the hardness as he looked back to her. She wondered for a moment if he even believed his own words, but decided it didn't matter. If he eventually chose to accept her friendship and the place she was offering him, it would not be this night.

"Bishop, I would never try to tame you, and I have no use for lapdogs. In reality I ask only two things: that when I need your skills, you be willing to help, and that you treat me and my companions with respect. I am not offering you a place as a lackey, but as one of us, part of the group." She looked down at her hands. "Despite what you may think, I have never wanted to command. I would prefer to be surrounded by equals. And friends. I would count you as both if you let me, and I would be happy to accept if you did the same."

He did not respond, so she rose after a moment to leave him to his thoughts. She knew he had often embraced darkness, but she still felt that somewhere within him was a better man than he had allowed himself to be, and she hoped she could reach that man.

Casavir slipped away before the ranger could accost him, certain the other man had been aware of his presence. The paladin was not certain what to think. He could see that she was giving Bishop the same chance she had given each of them: to stand beside her as a respected equal, no matter their past, no matter their sins. Certainly she had done so for him, looking unflinchingly at his failures and broken vows and dismissing them, accepting him as he was.

But the ranger was different. Wasn't he? Raewyn seemed to think Bishop was a victim of his life, but he was not so sure. Hardship plagued many men, but not all embraced evil as the ranger had. Still, he had seen the conflict play across the ranger's face, and he wondered at it. Unsettled, he returned to the Keep. He had much to ponder, and knew sleep would not be his that night.

Whether Raewyn's overtures to him had anything to do with it or not, Bishop chose to remain at Crossroad Keep. To Casavir's relief, Raewyn rarely asked him to travel with them, preferring to keep him at arm's length, though Casavir would have preferred an even farther remove. Bishop didn't seem to mind, seeming to favor instead getting into whatever mischief he dreamt up in the woods adjoining the Keep's lands. He seemed careful never to cause trouble as far as they knew, but Casavir was still concerned about his affiliation with them. After much prodding, he finally confessed his misgivings to Raewyn.

"I do not understand why you offer Bishop your friendship! He is not…he does not deserve such things."

"Everyone deserves a chance. He's not so different from you in some ways, you know."

She hadn't thought his scowl could get any darker, but he proved her wrong. She looked at him thoughtfully. She knew he was worried about her, and didn't trust Bishop. In reality she didn't exactly trust him either, but she felt as though she should at least try to give him the chance to not be evil. Still, she didn't want to hurt Casavir either.

"Listen, Bishop is the product of his world…." she began.

"He has chosen to be as he is, to do the things he's done. No matter the situation, he has made choices, and he is responsible for them." Casavir cut her off sternly.

"Haven't you made choices you aren't proud of?"

Casavir flinched, and she knew she'd hurt him. She sighed again. "I'm sorry. Look, I know it's not the same thing, but…" an idea struck her. "Will you come with me, Casavir? There's something I want to show you."

He looked at her for several heartbeats before nodding his assent.

"Thank you." She touched his cheek, and they turned to go. She stopped at her room to grab the librarian's veil before guiding him to a small secluded park set in a far corner of the walls behind the main Keep.

She led him to a small stone doorway set into a low grassy hill towards the back of the park.

"I discovered this place a few days ago. There is no danger, here, I promise. Close your eyes Casavir. Trust me," she assured him when he hesitated.

"Very well, my lady."

She took his hand and guided him into the structure. He could tell they had entered the door, and were proceeding down a gently sloping passageway. After a few dozen steps, his footsteps echoes differently, and he sensed they had come to a large chamber. As they entered, he felt a slight shiver, as though they had passed through a ward or other sort of spell.

"You can open your eyes now."

He did so, and as his vision adjusted to the dim light, he saw Raewyn before him. She gestured to the room around her. "Choose the correct passage out, Casavir."

He looked around the chamber. it was about twenty feet across, with a domed ceiling and two heavily carved doorways on either side, both of which led to darkness.

"How am I to choose? I cannot see where they lead."

She nodded. "I know. Nevertheless, if you wish to leave, you must choose."

"Very well." He looked between them then chose the one to his right. "This way," he said.

"Why didn't you choose the third door?" Raewyn asked.

Casavir looked around again. "I only see two doors, my lady."

"I can't help what you can see, but there is a third door nonetheless. Why did you not choose it?"

"How can I choose a path I cannot see?"

"Here" she said, placing the veil over his eyes. He looked again and saw a third doorway, though which he could see the sunlight at the far end of the passage.

"That is clearly the way," he said cautiously.

"_Now_ it is clear" she replied gently. "Imagine for a moment that this veil which gives you such clarity is the love of your family, the teachers who trained you, the temple that sheltered you, the light of Tyr that guided you. With all these things, like the veil, to show you the way, your path is clear."

She gently removed the veil, plunging him into darkness once more before she continued.

"Bishop had none of those things. He had no teachers, no temple," she gestured with the cloth in her hands "no veil to show him the path to the light. He had to choose from those paths he could see, just as you had to choose between two dark paths until the veil showed you another. As you said, how could you choose a path you could not see?"

"You have seen the world, Casavir. You have seen the struggle, the violence, the evil that exists alongside the good. Can you be so very certain that without those things, without all that this veil represents, you would have fared better than he did?"

The paladin let out a tight breath through his nose, clearly torn. She stepped close to him. "What about me? If Deaghun had not taken me in and raised me when I was orphaned, would I have fared any better than Bishop?"

He looked away, not wanting to answer, so she continued. "I do not excuse Bishop; never think I do. But I think he has chosen from what paths were open to him as best he could. And now, by always assuming he will do the worst, I think we continue to limit his choices. Perhaps if he was given better choices, he might take them."

He looked at her a long time. He had to admit she had challenged him, but that there was wisdom in her words. The idea of giving Bishop the chance to become a better man sat ill with him, but he could see that perhaps it was the right thing.

"My lady, you have taught me yet again."

"Bishop will never take your place at my side, Casavir. No one could ever take your place." Her voice was gentle as she stepped close to him, her hand on his shoulder. "But I feel I owe him at least the chance to do better things. I will be careful, I promise."

"And I will try not to limit his choices with my expectations."

She smiled. "That's all I think any of us can ask of anyone. And now, Casavir, we have some people to go and visit."

"My lady?" Raewyn turned back, expectantly. "If you can forge peace between Bishop and myself," his eyes sparkled with humor. "managing this keep should be no challenge at all."


	19. Chapter 19: Rebuilding

"Alright." Raewyn addressed her assembled companions in the common room of the Pheonix Tail. "I've been put in charge of getting this place up and running in decent shape. I know I can count on all of you, but we will be needed elsewhere. We are going to need...everything: armorers, blacksmiths, farmers, people to lead and train the men here. I'm open to suggestions for these and any other positions you can think of."

Elanee spoke up first. "What about the young armorer we met in Highcliff? He seemed very anxious to find a better situation."

"Edario! Of course, perfect Elanee. And come to think of it, what was the name of that fellow in Fort Locke…the one who made you that armor, Neeshka…Jacoby, wasn't it?"

"Yes, that's right. And I'm sure he's forgotten all about that set of daggers….we paid for them...eventually…." she laughed nervously.

"I paid for them, Neesh, but yes, I'm sure it's all fine by now." Raewyn laughed along with the tiefling. "Edario and Jacoby will keep us armed and armored, assuming they agree to join us…."

"Ye'll be needing ore, lass, if we're going to make arms and armor. Didn't that lass in Port Llast say she's looking for a mining opportunity?"

"Yes! Khelgar, I'd forgotten, but that's perfect. What else? I have an idea for a merchant, and I think some of the folks at West Harbor could be persuaded to help with farming. I don't think there is a patch of land in Faerûn that Orlen can't farm. But we will also need sergeants, people who can work with the men."

"My lady, Pentin may still be at Old Owl Well. He, too was looking for a chance to put his mining skills to use." He paused, clearly unsure of his next words. "And…."

"Yes, of course, Callindra will need help. What else, Casavir?"

"You need capable sergeants. Katriona is wasted at Old Owl Well. She has skills you need, and she would serve you faithfully."

Raewyn bit down hard on the surge of…something…that flared in her, and managed to answer him calmly despite her unease. "That's an excellent suggestion, Casavir. We will add a stop at Old Owl Well to our travel plans." She paused, then added with much less venom than she felt, "Perhaps when I speak to Orlen in West Harbor, I can see if Bevil would be willing to work with us as well."

Casavir sent her a measured look, but did not comment.

"Alright, Casavir, Khelgar, Elanee, Neeshka, and Shandra; you'll be going with me. Bishop, can you scout the area around the Keep, give me a detailed map of the terrain for…say…eight or ten miles in each direction?"

"As you wish, princess." he drawled.

"Thank you. It will be vital to know exactly what sort of terrain we will be defending. Sand, can you work with Aldanon? He's trying to find out whatever he can about this Jerro haven."

"What? No sleeping out of doors and listening to the dwarf snore? I shall try to endure the privation, in the name of a good cause, of course."

Raewyn cracked a half grin at the wizard's sarcasm before continuing. "Zhjaeve, I'd like you to see if you can work with Aldanon as well; he's also looking for anything he can find about the Ritual of Purification of which you spoke. The more we know about both the haven and the ruins you mentioned the more prepared we will be when we find them. I am sorry to keep you from exploring, but I think we need your knowledge here for the moment."

The githzerai nodded solemnly.

"Very well. We leave in the morning."

"My lady…" Casavir began, but Raewyn pretended she didn't hear him, continuing out the door without turning back.

Feigning a calm she didn't feel, she went quickly to her room at the Phoenix Tail, and shut the door behind her. She leaned against the door, letting her chaotic emotions flood through her before taking a deep breath, getting herself under control.

Why did she feel like she couldn't breathe the moment Casavir suggested they recruit his former sergeant? It was an excellent suggestion; they needed experienced, capable leaders, and Katriona was an ideal recruit. Grudgingly she admitted to herself that her distress was purely personal.

She knew Katriona had feelings for Casavir when they met at the Well, but he had never indicated that he returned her feelings. He hadn't mentioned her once, even in passing, in all their time together, not even the any times they had talked about his time at Old Owl Well. She remembered their departure from the Well, when she'd asked the paladin whether he planned to remain.

_"Do you intend to rejoin your men, Casavir?" _

_"No."_ He'd answered with no sense of ambiguity, no hesitation, and an almost intentional disregard for his sergeant's feelings. _"There is no reason for me to stay here any longer."_

Raewyn remembered the look of shocked dismay on Katriona's face when Casavir had said that. She shook her head. She was starting at ghosts, letting shadows spook her. There was no reason to think Casavir had suggested recruiting Katriona for any reason beside her abilities. 'Just like I had no other reason to suggest Bevil!' she chided herself, feeling a little guilty that she had not thought of her longtime friend until her insecurity spurred her to. Still, given his experience with the West Harbor militia, Bevil was another excellent candidate to help with the Graycloaks. With another deep breath, she made ready for bed, knowing they'd have another several weeks on the road during which she'd miss the luxury of a bed.

As she settled in under the covers, she resolved not to let her nascent jealousy deprive the Keep of Katriona's skill and experience. And in any case, she reflected gloomily, regardless of her feelings for Casavir, she still had no claim on him, and no indication he entertained similar feelings for her. Even if he did have other reasons for recommending his former sergeant, she had little to say about it. She sighed heavily. As much as she wanted to savor her comfortable bed, she tossed and turned, only falling into a fitful sleep in the small hours of the morning.

Raewyn divided their recruiting efforts into two trips, one north to Neverwinter and Port Llast, the other to the south, taking them inland through the Sword Mountains to Old Owl Well, then seaward to Highcliff, and finally south to Fort Locke and West Harbor. While the southern trip would take longer, Raewyn decided to make the northern journey first, hopefully beating the cold weather; none of the group relished the thought of journeying to the Luskan border in the teeth of winter.

Their first stop through Neverwinter was uneventful, and they stayed briefly at the Flagon before continuing on, to Duncan's delight. For all his carping, the innkeeper had missed not only his niece, but her friends as well.

Raewyn had two errands she needed to do while in Neverwinter, however, and she chose to go alone. The first was a visit to the Temple. She wanted to visit with Prior Hlam. She entered the Temple and took a moment to settle her mind, the scent of the incense soothing her troubled mind as it always did.

"Raewyn! Welcome!" Prior Hlam approached her, smiling broadly. "Tyr's blessing upon you, my friend."

"Thank you, Hlam. It's good to be here."

"What is troubling you, Raewyn?" at her look he elaborated. "I'm happy to see you, but it's clear that something is weighing heavy upon you."

She laughed a little. "You could say that. I have a fragment of a magical githyanki sword inside me, a dark lord wants me dead, and the King of Shadows is trying to return, I'm in charge of an entire Keep, and my best friend…." Her throat caught, and she stopped.

"Why do I suspect it is the last one that burdens you the most?"

"Because it does, Hlam. What sort of selfish, awful person does that make me, that in the middle of all this, I can't stop worrying about…" she stopped, her cheeks crimson.

"May I be bold enough to take a guess, and suppose you are referring to a certain son of Tyr?"

Raewyn cast her eyes down, her voice a murmur. "Yes."

"I cannot betray the confidence of a supplicant, my dear, but I think it is safe for me to assure you, that you are very much at the center of his thoughts." Her eyes flew to Hlam's. "He was here earlier today, and you were his chief...his only concern."

"Thank you Prior. I trust him with my life, I really do..."

"You can trust him with that and more, my child. Go in peace, with Tyr's blessing."

Raewyn wandered the merchant district for a while, thinking over the Prior's words, and her relationship with Casavir. She still didn't know what might eventually develop between them, but Hlam's assurances gave her some measure of calm. She turned her steps toward the street just past the City Watch office with a lighter heart.

"Watch Lady!"

"Hello, Deekin! How are you!"

"Deekin is good. Still gots things to sell, and gots people to buy, sometimes. Deekin gets cold sometimes, but is okay. Deekin hearing Watch lady has big castle? That be true?"

Raewyn laughed, cheered further by the kobold's enthusiasm. "Yes, sort of. It's actually a Keep. And I have a problem; one I am hoping you can help me with."

"Me helps Watch Lady?" The kobold's eye grew round. "How?"

"Well, we need merchants, you see. And I seem to have this empty shop…."

Deekin just stared, uncomprehending.

"I found you a shop in Crossroad Keep, Deekin. With a roof."

"A shop? With a roof? And no dragons?"

She laughed again. "Yes, with a roof, and a fireplace, and cozy living quarters above the shop. And no dragons. At least, not last I was there. We'd love to have you, Deekin. It's a little rough now, but I think we are going to build it into something really great."

Deekin grinned toothily. "Will the tall quiet friend be there?"

"Casavir?" she asked, surprised the kobold remembered him. "Yes, he will, why?"

"Tall quiet friend was here today, he ask about you, Watch lady. Ask if you okay, but I told him I no see. He look a little sad, Watch lady."

"I don't know why he is sad, Deekin, but thank you for letting me know. So what do you think about it, Deekin? Will we see you in Crossroad Keep?"

"Oh, yes, Watch lady! Deekin gladly go with you. It take Deekin a while to pack up, and maybe can't bring everything…."

"Don't worry; make whatever preparations you need to. When you get there, ask for Sir Nevalle, and tell him I sent you. I'm having a shipment of supplies sent from the Sunken Flagon in about a week. If you want to travel along, I'll let Duncan know to expect you."

"Thank you, Watch lady!"

Raewyn headed back to the docks district feeling more optimistic than she had in days. When she entered the Flagon, she went to Duncan first, telling him to expect Deekin. Then she sought Casavir, finding him near the fire in his accustomed spot.

She crossed to him, smiling, and before he could react, she leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"My lady?" he asked, startled.

"I'm just wanted to show you how happy I am to have you." With that, she turned and headed to her room, leaving the paladin looking after her, his fingers raised to his cheek, staring after her with a happy sort of bewilderment.

After lingering at the Flagon as long as they dared, Raewyn and her companions made the trip to Port Llast. Calindra was still there, and proved happy to join the efforts at the Keep. Raewyn spent a pleasant afternoon visiting with Nya, the herbalist who had assisted her in repairing for her trial while the Khelgar and Casavir looked at the weaponry for sale. Soon they were heading back to Neverwinter, and from there, south by ship to Highcliff.

Highcliff was uneventful as well. Edario was thrilled to see Raewyn again, and quickly agreed to join them at the Keep. It seemed the tension between the townsfolk and the lizardmen had begun to run high once more. Raewyn offered to help, but Elder Mayne didn't have any idea where to start. There were no specific incidents to address, just….tension.

Shandra asked that they take the half day's detour to her old farm. When they got there, she wandered the ruins of her home, her face blank.

"Are you alright, Shandra?" Raewyn approached her as she stood in what had been her front doorway.

"Oddly enough, I am. I suppose I should have a sense of loss, but I don't. It seems like it was someone else who lived here."

"You've come a long way since then." Raewyn smiled at the other woman. "For whatever it's worth, I'm glad to have you with us. I've come to rely on you a lot, you know."

"Thanks, Raewyn. I was so angry, at you, at the gith, at the lizardmen. I guess I really am happy things turned out this way, too. I've done more things, seen more places than I ever would even have dreamt of if I'd stayed here."

"I know the feeling. Leaving West Harbor was awful, but I can't even imagine not having found all of you…."

With another long look, the two friends rejoined their companions, and they set off once more. The places they traveled through were quiet, though far from peaceful. The air of tension they found in Highcliff was palpable wherever they went, and even the usual noisy babble of Raewyn's companions seemed subdued. It seemed the whole of Neverwinter territory was holding its breath, waiting for the storm to come.

From Highcliff, they traveled inland to the foothills of the Sword Mountains, to Old Owl Well. As they left the plains and headed into the dusty valleys leading up to the Well, Raewyn watched Casavir, wondering at his thoughts on returning here. He had been the quietest of all of them. That in itself wasn't too unusual, but after the tension between them, and his history at the well, Raewyn wondered at his silence.

When they arrived they found the encampment had grown into an small, neatly organized fort. Callum greeted them heartily.

"Raewyn! Well met! What brings you back to these mountains?"

"Well met, indeed! I'm hoping to recruit a couple folks. I couldn't interest you in leadership of a Keep, could I?" Raewyn joked.

"No," Callum laughed, "I think I'm going to be here a while yet. But I heard about your new appointment, and I think Crossroad's in good hands as it is." Raewyn smiled her gratitude, as Callum turned his attention to the paladin beside her. "And Casavir, my friend, how fare you?"

"Very well, Callum." Casavir clasped Callum's outstretched hand with a smile. "You've done well here. Are the orcs still in disarray?"

"Enough for us not to lose sleep over. We're well enough established here that even once they get themselves sorted, they won't try anything. We owe that to you two; we'd never have had the time to get these fortifications built without your work here."

"I'm happy we could help." Raewyn answered. Casavir took leave of them, wishing to greet some of his former men, and Raewyn watched him go before turning back to Callum.

"I've not seen him look so at ease for many years, Raewyn. There's not a better man in Neverwinter, and I hated to see him so tormented. It's good to see him happy."

"Is he, do you think?" Raewyn asked. "I don't really know…."

"I do, and I think it's not just having a good cause to fight for; you yourself are the reason."

"Me? Why do you say that?"

"Casavir's a private sort, and slow to speak his mind. But the way he looks at you can only mean one thing, even for a paladin. Give it time, lass."

"I'll try. Thank you Callum. As much as I'd love to visit longer, I should probably get back to why we're here. Where can I find Katriona?"

Raewyn had asked Khelgar to speak with Pentin about joining the Keep, so she went in search of Katriona. She found the sergeant leading a training exercise just outside the fortified walls surrounding the Well. When she saw the other woman approaching, she called a halt, and told her trainees to take a break.

"Didn't think I'd see you back here, ma'am. What can we do for you?" Her words were cordial, but Raewyn detected an undercurrent of uneasiness about the woman.

"I'm looking to recruit some sergeants to Crossroad Keep. If you are still looking for a serious posting, I could use your skill and experience."

Katriona regarded her thoughtfully for a long moment. Finally, she nodded crisply. "I have some things to wrap up here, but I'd welcome the opportunity, thank you. Will it be alright if I arrive in a week or so?"

"That would be fine. We have a few more stops to make ourselves; you may just beat us there. If you arrive before we do, ask for Kana, she's in charge of my Graycloaks."

They left the mountains then, with hearty good wishes on both sides. As they made their was back down through the foothills below the Well, Raewyn drew alongside Casavir.

"How are you doing, Casavir. You've been awfully quiet this trip."

"There has been much on my mind, but I am well, my lady."

"And returning here; it has not been…difficult?"

"I had wondered myself if it would be, but it has not. It was good to see Callum again, and I am very gratified to see that Old Owl Well has been made safe for its people."

"I am too. And I'm glad you didn't feel...I mean, that it wasn't painful for you."

"My lady, I have you to thank for that. You have...banished my ghosts, eased so many of my doubts. I am in your debt…"

"No Casavir, you don't owe me anything. I think I got the better end of the deal anyway." At his quizzical look, she added. "I got you, didn't I? I am the one who owes you."

Their stops in Fort Locke and West Harbor were also brief. Jacoby accepted the invitation to the Keep, as did Orlen. Deaghun seemed pleased to see his foster daughter, but as he had on her last visit, he cautioned her against staying overlong. Raewyn went to see Rhetta, wanting to visit her as well as find Bevil, but Rhetta told her that Bevil had gone off seeking a place to fight whatever was coming.

Everywhere they heard tales of the corruption brewing in the Mere. Though they did not enter the Mere itself, on their journey into West Harbor, Elanee told Raewyn that she almost could not sense the Mere anymore, or rather that it had become something wholly other, wholly different.

"The taint is stronger than I have ever felt it. It is as though the Meredelain is becoming a different place, or...like another place is coming into being there. It is difficult to explain."

"I hope we can stop it. Do you think that the taint can be reversed, if we stop the King of Shadows?"

"I don't know my lady. I hope so."

On their return, Nevalle hurried to meet then, accosting Raewyn before she'd even reached the gates. "My lady, thank goodness! I must speak with you at once." He was flustered, more agitated than Raewyn had seen him.

"What is it, Sir Nevalle?"

"There is...I'm not sure how to say this, my lady, but a giant spider has taken up residence in the basement. We have been unable to dislodge it. And there is a...forgive me, ma'am, a kobold who says you invited him here?"

Raewyn heard what might have been a snicker from Casavir, and she smiled broadly at Nevalle. "The spider's name as near as we can tell is Kistrel, and she's a friend. Please make sure no one disturbs her." She smiled at Nevalle's thunderstruck expression. "Oh, and the kobold is Deekin. Where is he?"

"I'm holding him at the gatehouse, my lady…."

"What? He's an honored guest, and I've offered him one of the merchant shops."

"My lady? A kobold? As a merchant?"

"It's no stranger than a giant spider in the basement, now is it, Sir Nevalle? Or a West Harbor swamp rat running a keep at Lord Nasher's request?"

"I suppose not, my lady."


	20. Chapter 20: Purification

Once they had returned to the Keep, Raewyn settled down for a long conversation with Zhjaeve. It was time to understand the true nature of the threat the King of Shadows posed.

"Know that I will aid you if I can, but it may already be too late."

"I thank you, Zhjaeve, and I welcome your help. I shall do what I must. And we must do what we can, and hope we are not too late. We cannot simply do nothing."

"Know that this path is a dangerous one. Even the people of Illefarn, as powerful as they were, were unable to defeat the King of Shadows."

"What can you tell me about him, this King of Shadows, Zhjaeve?"

"The King of Shadows was not always tied to darkness, and that is part of the tragedy. His will was once devoted to an ancient empire, to the protection of its people."

"The King of Shadows was once a protector?"

"Yes. He was once the light of Illefarn, empowered with the strength to protect them from their enemies...and he was bound to the natural magics of the plane, but he became corrupted somehow, and from a being of light, the Guardian became a thing of shadow."

"So he takes his power from nature itself? How can we possibly defeat him?"

"It will not be easy. But as much as a ritual created the Guardian that became Shadow, there is a ritual that will unmake him. It is a Ritual of Purification, designed to allow him peace when his days of sacrifice are done and the empire needs him no longer."

"So when they created the Guardian, they also created the means to destroy him, or unmake him?"

"That is correct."

"So how do we do this ritual?"

"If the ritual does exist, it lies within the ruined Illefarn city of Arvahn. It will not be an easy path to walk, _Kalach-Cha._ But know that this Ritual of Purification... and the blade of our enemies are the only chance of success in this."

"The gith blade? You mean the shards; they've always been at the center of this, but how? How do they figure into this?"

"The Gith forged this blade in order to destroy the King of Shadows. But they failed, and the blade was shattered. Know that you are the only one who can reforge Gith's blade and use it in battle once more. A battle that will free your lands and people from an evil even greater than the evil the illithid sought to bring upon my people. There is no other who can do it. And if the title of _Kalach-Cha_ displeases you, then know that you must make another title. And perhaps your name shall be the battlecry by which this ancient enemy, this King of Shadows will be defeated."

"As long as he is defeated, I suppose that is what counts."

"Now we must travel to the ruins of the culture of Illefarn, and there, undergo the rituals you will need to arm your spirit against the King of Shadows. There, we shall find what we seek and complete the Ritual of Purification."

The journey to Arvahn was pleasant, leading them through gently rolling hills and sweeping green plains. The finally arrived at the location Zjhaeve indicated, they found a lush and sheltered valley.

"We will need to find five Statues of Purification. Each one holds a blessing that will be required if you are to face the King of Shadows."

They found the first statue just across a small bridge at the mouth of the valley. It depicted a priestess of sorts, a colossal winged woman with a shield at her knee, holding a dish or censer in her hands. The companions stopped a distance away from it; uncertainty, hope, and awe in equal measure on their faces.

"Well, Zjhaeve, what do we do now?"

The gith paused a long moment before answering. "You must clear your mind, and approach the Statue with a supplicant heart."

"That's it?" It seemed too easy, but at Zjhaeve's nod, Raewyn approached it slowly. When she got what seemed like a comfortable distance, she stopped and took a deep breath. Clearing her mind, she wondered how to compose herself properly. She thought of her companions, of the Keep and the people there who depended on her, and of West Harbor and how badly she wanted to save all of them. 'Please,' she thought, 'I don't know how to ask, but I need to save them. I need to stop the Shadow.'

With a sudden wash of light and color, the Statue seemed to come to life, its gaze shifting as if to focus on her. A voice echoed around her and through her.

"In ancient times, the Guardian was created to protect Illefarn. If the time has come to dismantle our Great Instrument, you will be an agent of its destruction."

Another burst of rainbow light shimmered out from the Statue, cloaking Raewyn in a scintillating halo. She felt power surge through her, rising up from the earth beneath her and flowing up through her legs, her body, radiating out from her fingers and the crown of her head. As the power surged, the voice echoed again.

"Take this Blessing of Camaraderie. May its power strike down all who oppose you and your allies."

After a long moment, the power receded like a wave washing down the beach, leaving in its wake a sense of peace and strength. Raewyn looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers, wondering at the new sensation within her.

She looked up then, and while most of her companions had shielded their eyes from the light, Casavir was looking at her, wonder written across his features. Raewyn stepped away from the statue, stumbling slightly. Casavir reached and caught her elbow, and Raewyn sent him a grateful smile.

"The first part of the ritual is complete." Zhjaeve intoned. "Know that though the King of Shadows may become legions, this ritual may still be used to drive him back."

Raewyn still felt a little shaky, the power of the ritual still ringing in her mind. She suggested they camp nearby, and the Zhjaeve agreed. As Raewyn sat staring into the fire, Casavir came and sat quietly beside her.

"Are you well, my lady?" he asked quietly after a while.

"I think so. It was…strange."

The paladin looked at the flames, considering his words. "I remember moments when my abilities awakened, and I felt a sense of power flow through me. Those have been some of the most profound experiences of my life. But what I saw here…" he broke off, his voice quiet. "I have never seen or felt such power. I am...I am in awe of you, my lady."

"No, please, don't say that." To his surprise, she had tears in her eyes. "I already feel like I'm cut off, alienated from who I am, from everyone I've known. I'm still just me, Casavir!"

She laid her hand on his arm, looking up at him with urgency, her eyes bright with tears. "Please, don't treat me differently. I don't want to lose you, too."

He covered her hand with his, and gave her a gentle smile. "You will not lose me, my lady. I am sorry to have distressed you. I only wished to tell you how remarkable you are."

The next two statues were located within underground structures. The first was an ancient Keep, where they had to fight off a band of ogres, led by a formidable ogre mage. Having won past the mage and his minions, they managed to use artifacts they had found among the ruins to gain access to a locked doorway concealing the second Statue. The second time, Raewyn knew what to expect, so the experience was a bit less unsettling, but left Raewyn shaken nonetheless. Again the voice echoed though the chamber, seeming to come from within Raewyn herself. "Take this Blessing of Protection. May it guard you against the forces of darkness."

The third statue was hidden in a mine adjacent to a ravaged library. In order to gain access to the Statue, they had to seek the aid of six spirits, the shades of long dead Illefarn defenders. It was from those shades that they learned more, piece by piece, of the nature of the Guardian, and how it had become the creature of Shadow that they now faced.

As they rested for the night before seeking the fourth Statue, Raewyn tried to explain what she had pieced together from speaking with the various shades that had peopled the Gem Mines as their lorekeeper, Balaur called the underground complex.

"As I understand it, the King of Shadows started as a Guardian for the Illefarn Empire, as you said, Zhjaeve. It was created to protect its borders from Netheril and other enemies. It was powered by the Weave, a sort of web of magic that permeates the world. When the Weave failed long ago, the Guardian would have ceased to exist, but it chose to use the Shadow Weave in order to protect its existence. The Shadow Weave; that's like a darker echo of the Weave, isn't it?"

"Yes," answered Elanee. "And it is tainted; not so much evil, but corrupt, twisted. THose who ally with it lose their sanity, their humanity."

The githzerai nodded, and Raewyn continued. "The Shadow Weave corrupted the Guardian and turned it from a guardian of good into the King of Shadows. Now, even as the King of Shadows, it's still trying to protect the Illefarn Empire."

"But there is no Illefarn Empire, lass. They've been gone for centuries." observed Khelgar. "Shouldn't that thing have given up or something?"

"I don't know. Maybe Garius has convinced it that he represents the Illefarn Empire. It seems like a blind thing, driven more by memory and shadow than by any real cause. At any rate, he seems to have found a way to compel the King of Shadows, bend it to his will."

"Indeed, _Kalach-Cha,_" said Zhjaeve. "Garius has found a way to control the Guardian. In his hands, the power it commands could be turned to unmatched devastation. The power the ritual gives you will enable you to face the Guardian, though it will still not be an easy battle."

"Are they ever easy?" asked Raewyn. No one had an answer, and soon they each settled to sleep.

The fourth of the statues to which Zhjaeve had led them lay within an ancient temple, the Temple of Seasons. In each of four cavernous chambers fashioned to emulate the season it represented, they had learned of four ancient heroes of Illefarn, the Knights of the Seasons who had fought together to protect Arvahn. After reading the tale of each of the four, the company had battled heralds of the seasons themselves. Only surviving the onslaught offered by the magic of each chamber opened the way to the next. When they had finally won through all four of the seasons' rooms, they entered an even larger chamber in the center, where four sarcophagi and the forth of the Statues of Purification rested.

Casavir had been fascinated to learn of each of the four Knights of the Seasons, and now he looked around the vaulted burial chamber in wonder. When he spoke, his voice was tinged with reverent awe.

"These are knights who fell in battle in service to their people... their countries." he gestured to the tombs. "This is a great memorial...yet somehow, it doesn't feel enough to contain them." Raewyn nodded, understanding his meaning.

"They seem so much larger, legendary, yet here they lie. It is...a sobering thought."

She looked back to him. "Are you all right?"

"I wonder, my lady? Is this how all noble deeds end? Does any worthy cause last only as long as there are those to fight for it...and die for it?"

"They were brave warriors who gave everything for their ideals…."

"And what if there is no one left who believes in such things? Such sacrifice was something rarely seen when I lived upon the streets of Neverwinter...and even rarer elsewhere."

"Casavir, such acts occur in Neverwinter every day; smaller, quieter, perhaps, but no less heroic."

"Perhaps you are right, it only requires that one be willing to see them. And the consequences of such small sacrifices can be just as great."

"And those ideals, that sacrifice, that dedication; it is easily seen in you, Casavir."

"Your words honor me. But I do not know the truth of them. Perhaps one day we shall see."

"I know the truth of them, Casavir." She smiled at him. He drew her aside from the rest, and spoke softly, so the others would not hear.

"I ask this...If I fall in battle, I would like to be buried here, in this temple. It is quiet, few visit here...and I have many questions I would ask those buried here." He looked toward the tombs again, missing the anguished look that crossed Raewyn's face. "I need to know if what we do makes a difference; but only after I no longer have a choice in life."

"I…Casavir, I don't know if I…" She looked at him, and swallowed hard. "Yes, I promise."

She turned and hurried back to the rest, tears blurring her vision. She asked Zhjaeve to give her a few minutes before they completed the next step in the ritual, and she returned to the Sanctuary of Spring. She sat down beneath one of the trees, savoring the illusion of a warm spring day. She breathed deeply, struggling with her sudden sense of panic at Casavir's request.

It wasn't that he would want to rest here; it would be a fitting honor for him, and for those who rested here now. She smiled a little to think that if anyone belonged in the company of such legendary heroes, it was Casavir, and that they would doubtless welcome him. It was the thought of burying him at all that made her chest lurch.

Though she knew he'd never planned to leave Old Owl Well, she was certain he'd left behind his tortured quest for death. But it seemed he still expected to fall in battle, and from the way he spoke if it, he seemed to think it would be sooner than later. The thought of going on without him by her side was agony. As often as she confronted the matter, she had never found herself at ease with the notion that one or more of her companions might fall in the battles to which she herself led them.

She thought of each of her companions in turn, and realized that she could not bear to lose any of them. Even losing Bishop, for all his scorn and contempt, or Qara would break her heart. But to lose Casavir…. Unfair as it might be, he had become so very precious to her, in ways her other friends, no matter that she loved each of them dearly, could begin to equal. Her head spun as she considered that she might someday have to choose between her companions, to select which one would undertake a mission that meant certain death, and which would not, or whom to save first when healing magic ran low. She would give her life for any of her companions without hesitation. But would she give theirs? Could she spend Casavir's life if the circumstances demanded it?

She didn't know if she could. "That is why I have no business doing this!" she raged helplessly. She understood Casavir's fear of attachment then, and she understood a little better why Nasher, even Grayson, clung to their codes as they did. It was easier if you had a rulebook, if you could refer your choices to some code, and reassure yourself it was the right choice because the rules said so. 'But that is how they cease to care' she reminded herself. Perhaps that was why those in power hardened their hearts; to feel each loss, the weight of each decision, would drive one mad. "So is it better to be mad, or heartless?" she asked the air.

Receiving no reply, and expecting none, she dashed the tears from her cheeks impatiently. She had no time for this! The statue, the ritual, and the battle awaited. She returned to the burial chamber to wake the power of the statue, her heart still heavy in her chest.

There was a narrow hill which stood higher than the rest of the land here, and atop it stood a carved stone frame. When they had first inspected it, it seemed only an empty frame, like a mirror missing its glass. Zhjaeve said that it was a portal, and until they had completed the first four parts of the Rite of Purification, it would remain dormant. When they had returned to the hill that afternoon, it had been shimmering in hues of amethyst and green, a magical gate to the last of the statues.

They rested that night in the peaceful forests of Arvahn before continuing on to the final part of the ritual. As they made camp, Raewyn sought out Casavir.

"I was thinking of what you said before, about a worthy cause lasting only as long as there are those to fight for it?"

"Yes, my lady?"

"Well, I was thinking of when we talked about rebuilding the Keep. How you told me that giving the people in that region protection, at helping them to build lives was as important as building up the forces there."

"I think it is perhaps more important, as you know."

"Me, too. But by doing that, by helping them build lives there, build a community there, aren't we building something that will outlast us? If we are successful, the town that will grow around the Keep will be there generations after we are forgotten. And if we can make he Graycloaks stand for something more, train them to be more...make them the sort of men that cannot easily be corrupted as we have both seen...will that not build a lasting legacy, too?"

The paladin looked into the fire a while, thinking about what she had said. He had often wondered if what he had done at Old Owl Well would have made a difference, even after his name was long lost to memory. As he considered her perspective, he realized that whether he was remembered or not, he had made a difference which would long outlive him.

He shook his head, realizing once again she had set to rest a matter with which he had grappled for so long. And again she had done it simply, with no fanfare, with only words spoken from her heart.

"I am grateful for you, my lady. And I think perhaps you are correct. What we do _can_ make a difference, even those things that do not require strength of arm or sharpness of blade."

"Perhaps especially those things.…"

"Indeed. I wish to thank you for allowing me to be part of what you are building at Crossroad Keep. I know you could have your pick of many able warriors, all better men than I, without a string of broken vows behind them…."

"No, Casavir." she hastened to correct him, a smile softening her interruption. "Vows or no, there is no better man than you, nor any man anywhere I'd rather have beside me."

"You honor me, my lady, by your words, and by choosing me when you could choose otherwise."

He bid her good evening then, and she whispered after him. "I will always choose you, my paladin. Every time."


	21. Chapter 21: West Harbor

With only one Statue remaining to complete the ritual, the companions were optimistic. They made ready to enter the shimmering Song Portal on the Arvahn hilltop that would take them to the final statue. They were not sure where exactly the portal would take them, but Zhjaeve was convinced it would lie in one of the many Illefarn ruins near the edge of the Mere, close to the heart of the shadow that grew there. When they materialized, however they were not in an Illefarn ruin.

"What _is_ this place?"asked Shandra, her voice reflecting the palpable unease which hung in the moist air.

At first Raewyn herself didn't recognize where they were. Shattered timbers and burned out shells of a village stood before them, the smoke of charred wood and fallen bodies long since enveloped by the mists of the Mere. Then, all at once she recognized the line of a roof here, the angle of a doorway there, and she ran ahead with an broken cry.

"Oh, no…."

"My lady!" Casavir followed after her, at first thinking her reaction was caused by the sight of another village devastated as Ember had been. He caught up to her as she knelt down beside the body of a villager. Casavir recognized the woman, and his heart clenched, knowing her anguish ran even deeper still. "Oh, my lady...I am so sorry…."

"Rhetta. It's Rhetta Starling. Look, even her dogs were slain. Oh, gods, why?" She looked up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks, then something occurred to her. "Bevil? Where is Bevil? He must be here somewhere.…" She saw something else then, and she rose, walking past him.

"Georg! And, no, it's Brother Merring…!" Casavir stayed close to her, wishing he could do something to ease her pain. "He was a cleric, a priest of Lathander. Who would want to hurt him?"

She stopped suddenly and turned to him, clutching his arms, looking up at him in panic.

"Daeghun! My father… oh gods, Casavir, my father!"

She took off at a dead run, Casavir hard on her heels. They came over the bridge leading to Daeghun's home, finding it as ravaged as the rest of West Harbor.

"Wait, my lady, you should not go in there, it is not safe!" Raewyn charged forward, heedless of Casavir's warnings. She emerged a few minutes later, white-faced under a layer of soot and mud.

"I couldn't find him. So many dead, and my father is gone, Bevil is gone…. What happened to them?"

"My lady…." Casavir began, feeling helpless, sick with the devastation around him, and deeply concerned over Raewyn's sorrow. Elanee's voice interrupted him.

"Raewyn. We found a survivor; he's asking for you."

"I…. Very well." Raewyn took a deep breath, trying to master her heartbreak at the senseless destruction of so many she'd known and loved. She was both hopeful and fearful at the news of a survivor. She looked to Casavir apprehensively.

"You will come with me?" Her voice quavered with uncertainty. The paladin nodded. He put his hand on her shoulder, and together they followed the druidess into what remained of one of West Harbor's houses. The devastation was so thorough, she couldn't even be sure anymore whose house it had been. Elanee gestured to Casavir, and they both followed her in.

It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light as she knelt beside a figure on a rough pallet.

"Wyn?" she asked "Wyn Mossfield?"

"Raewyn. It is you." He winced with the effort of speaking. Raewyn looked down to see his midsection was a jumbled mess of blood and flesh.

Wyn caught his breath a moment and spoke again. "I didn't think we'd see you here again, Raewyn. You have become so much more…" he coughed, and bright blood blossomed around the bandages holding him together. "I think I loved you a little, back then. But I was always so cruel to you. I'm sorry."

Raewyn took his hand in hers. "No, we were so young then, like puppies, tussling in the straw, testing ourselves against each other. There was no cruelty. You have become a good man, Wyn Mossfield. I'm proud to know you."

"I'm going to die, aren't I?"

Raewyn looked first at Casavir, then to Elanee. Each shook their head sadly. Her jaw tightened, but she held her voice steady as she looked back to Wyn, "Yes. You are beyond our healing. I am so sorry, Wyn"

He nodded, unsurprised. He gritted his teeth and ground out "How long?"

"I don't know. A few days, perhaps."

He brought his other hand to hers, his eyes pleading. "Please, don't let me linger here, like this. Send me home, Raewyn."

Tears ran down her cheeks as she studied him a long moment before she nodded.

She rummaged in her pack, finally finding what she sought. She didn't know why she'd kept the poison that the Luskan assassins had carried into the Solace Glade so long ago, but Sand had told her that this one, unique among Luskan poisons, carried a swift and painless death. She looked to her companions. "Elanee, please bring wine if you can find any. Casavir, can you bring his sword?" On his raised eyebrow she added "He is a Harborman. He will wish to die with his sword in his hand."

Casavir nodded in understanding and went to fetch the weapon. When both had returned, she handed Wyn his sword, and he gripped it in his right hand, letting the blade rest beside him. Raewyn tipped a few drops of the dark green liquid into a pottery cup before filling it with wine. She knew he likely could not absorb the poison normally, but the devastation of his body would certainly allow it to enter his bloodstream quickly.

She sat beside him, and gestured for Casavir to hold up his head. She brought the cup to his lips, and he drank deeply. From the corner of her eye, Raewyn saw wine and blood flowing out from his belly to soak his bandages. It would not be long.

She settled his sword more securely against him, and took his other hand in hers.

"You have done well, Wyn Mossfield. Go in peace, with all honor."

It was only five minutes, maybe six. For Reawyn it was an eternity that she held Wyn's gaze, sharing in his pain as she accompanied him down into darkness. She held his hand tightly when his grip spasmed, the poison spreading swiftly. His eyes locked on hers and she never looked away until, with a last rattling sigh, he fell silent and the light left his eyes.

"Rest well, my friend." she whispered, gently laying his hand over the other and sweeping his eyelids closed.

She rose then and walked quickly out of the house. Casavir followed close behind her. She made it to the fence at the far side of the yard before she fell to all fours, her stomach heaving its meager contents into the grass. Casavir silently handed her his water skin to cleanse her mouth, and when she had done so, he offered her his hand and helped her rise.

They walked to the edge of the ravaged field and stopped.

"You honored him, my lady, and gave him peace. He died well."

"He shouldn't have died at all, Casavir! He should have grown old by the fire, surrounded by fat grandchildren!" she cried, tears flowing freely. "I left here to save them, and everything I've done has been for nothing. I should have been here."

She paced in her anguish. "Damn Nasher, damn all of them! Zjhaeve's had me running all over hell and gone muttering at statues, and Nasher has me playing house at that thrice damned pile of rocks…!" Her voice rose, cracking painfully. "I should have been here, Casavir. I should have been here…" It came out in a sob.

He moved to gather her in his arms, and after a moment's resistance, she leaned against him, sobs racking her small frame.

"My lady, I know how difficult this is, but what you are doing is what you must. The Rite of Purification, the rebuilding of Crossroad Keep; these things are needed, for all of Neverwinter…"

"What?" She pulled away from him, anger replacing the pain in her face. "How can you say that? You of all people!"

"My lady, had you been here, you might have been able to save them, or you might have perished with them. But what of Garius, of the King of Shadows? Who would stand against these threats if you had perished here…"

"No! I can't believe I'm hearing this from you. After Old Owl Well…. Are these people's lives...MY people's lives worth less than the people of the Well? You stood for them when Neverwinter would not, and now you say this to me? You were the only one I thought would understand. But you sound just like the rest of them."

She turned and ran from him, and he stared after her, his heart splintering in his chest. She was in so much pain, and he felt it with her, but so much depended on her. He had been no one; to have lost his life at Old Owl Well would have hurt few but himself. Now, with her… He remembered her words at the Temple of Seasons, when she'd convinced him that what they were building at the Keep did matter, that it would matter after they themselves were gone. She bore the hope of so many….

He sighed. He should not have sought to remind her of that just now, when sorrow lay heavy upon her, her burdens close to breaking her. He had failed her when she needed him, and added to her anguish instead of relieving it.

"Tyr, what have I done?" He stared after her for a long time before he turned back to the others, praying he would have the chance to make it right with her.

Raewyn didn't go very far into the trees, turning to look back and seeing Casavir, standing stricken where she'd left him. The sorrow on his face caught at her like the jagged branches that snatched at her clothing. He was right of course; had she been here, she'd likely be dead now too, the shards in Garius's hands, and all hope for Neverwinter lost.

But why? Why had they come here? She hadn't been back since the day she'd come seeking Orlen and Bevil to join her at the Keep. Even then she'd stayed scarcely more than an hour, Daeghun quick to remind her of the danger she brought with her. What possible gain was there in destroying what was left of West Harbor?

The only reason could be just what was happening now; her foundering in her anguish and loss, driving away her companions, rejecting the things she knew she must do. That thought filled her with guilt; it seemed she was the direct cause of West Harbor's destruction. They had fallen only to wound her, to stop her. Then she replaced that guilt with anger. If she allowed her pain to to crush her, she would only let them win. And Casavir had been right about something else. If she didn't rally now, all of Neverwinter would suffer as West Harbor had suffered. That she would not allow.

But first she had some things to say to Casavir.

She found him digging a grave behind the ravaged skeleton of the Mossfields' house. He had piled his armor to the side and was working in only a mud-stained linen shirt and leather trews. He worked steadily, almost mechanically, his face grim, though sweat ran from his brow and soaked his shirt. Though her pain over the village still rode uppermost in her heart, she felt a stab of pain for him as well. Even if he did not love her as she did him, he had only ever been supportive and caring toward her. He deserved better from her, and she knew her outburst had hurt him deeply.

"Casavir, can we talk a moment?"

He froze at her voice, but didn't face her. She could see the strain in his shoulders as he answered her. "Is that wise, my lady?" It came out softly, tinged with pain.

"It is always wise to make amends when one has foolishly hurt a person one loves." She spoke without thinking, realizing what she'd said too late. Casavir flinched, and turned to her, his head bowed.

"You are correct. My sorrow, my lady, to have hurt you. That is something I vowed never to do…" Raewyn rushed to him, putting her hand on his arm.

"No, no, I meant me! I meant I owe you an apology." She willed him to look at her. "Casavir, I am so sorry. You were right, and it was selfish and cruel of me to say what I did. I know you understand what this is like for me; I think you are the only person that really can. Please, will you forgive me?"

"My lady…" Casavir choked. "There is nothing to forgive. You spoke out of pain, out of love for those you lost this day. I should not have tried to..."

Raewyn reached out and shushed him, laying her fingers gently on his lips. He shuddered, but fell silent, looking at her in…was it hope in his gaze, longing?

"You were right to remind me of what is at stake." She moved her hand to his cheek as she spoke. "If I founder now, they win, and many more than these will meet the same fate. More brothers, friends, sons, and daughters will be lost if I allow myself to drown in my own loss. I won't let them die in vain, Casavir. And you reminded me of that."

They shared a long silence, eyes locked. Wordlessly, she drew him into an embrace, heedless of the dirt and sweat, and after a heartbeat's hesitation, he returned it, his arms surrounding her, the shovel clanging unheeded to the ground.

"I need you, Casavir," she murmured in his ear. "Please don't ever stop reminding me of what is real, even if I don't always take it well. I am so sorry I hurt you, but I will always remember that out of all else in Faerûn, you are real to me."

She turned her head and placed a lingering kiss on his cheek, and his arms tightened around her, his heart pounding. After a long moment they drew apart, though her hands moved down his arms to grasp his hands, giving them a squeeze before she turned to go at last.

The paladin stood a long time after she left. To say the feeling which swelled in him was joy was not quite right; he, too, was still caught in the tragedy of what had happened here. Hope was closer, but still did not capture it. It was some hours later before her words came back to him, causing him to stop short in astonished wonder. _"… when one has foolishly hurt a person one loves."_ She had said she was referring to herself hurting him. But did that mean…. He dismissed the thought; certainly she had meant it only as she would have for any of her companions, in a general sense. Nevertheless, as they continued on into the Mere, a small smile clung to his lips.


	22. Chapter 22: Healing

When they entered the Illefarn ruin below the Mere, they were stunned to see a group of figures arrayed around the room. There were a handful of Shadow Priests and four or five black wraiths, their amorphous essence billowing like tattered cloaks in a ghostly wind. But these hardly registered. What they all stared at in shock was a monstrous figure with a skull wreathed in blue flames in place of a head.

"Oh, Gods. What is that?" It was Shandra's voice, but none of them had to ask what she meant.

"It is a thrall of the King of Shadows, a Shadow Reaver, and there, behind it, is the Statue of Purification…" Her voice faltered as the statue shattered in with a bust of fire, fair magics and foul mixing with a roar that shook the for beneath their feet.

The Shadow Reaver turned to them, its eyeless socks seeming to writhe, like the rest of its skull, under a veil of blue flickering flame. Its voice seemed to come from all around them, but nowhere, tainted by magic. "You have come far... for nothing," it intoned. "The statue's power is spent, another has taken it. But it will not stop us."

"Another has undergone the Ritual of Purification?" Zhjaeve spat with uncharacteristic venom. "You speak lies."

The creature gave a croaking rumble that might have been laughter. "But it does not matter; the thief has not completed the rest of the ritual, the parts you bear. Once you are slain and the other statues cast down, none shall stand against us."

"Then as long as the other one who completed the ritual lives, we have a chance. All we have to do is defeat you."

"Even if you should wound me, I shall reform within the Vale of Merdelain, as strong as before. I cannot be stopped."

"You are already defeated, you simply do not know it. But you will."

"If you seek to shield yourself in your words, then I shall show you how frail such armor is."

The Shadow Priests fell easily, but the wraiths kept them separated, sweeping between them, keeping them from getting to Raewyn's side and help her handle the Shadow Reaver. She'd never fought anything so strong. She had faced certain undead creatures that possessed preternatural strength, but the Shadow Reaver seemed indestructible. No matter the damage she inflicted, it didn't seem to phase the creature. Its eyeless gaze never wavered, its bony jaw seemed to grin at her efforts. She rained blows down, but she felt herself weakening….

The moment she crumpled to the ground at the feat of that monstrosity, a Shadow Reaver, Zhjaeve had called it, Casavir felt his heart freeze within his chest. He'd seen her knocked to the ground before, and each time felt a lurch of fear until he saw the spark of anger in her eyes as she caught herself, rolled, and rose to rejoin the fight. He knew the moment he saw her begin to fall that this was different. Her face was pale, her eyes blank, and she simply crumpled silently to the floor like empty clothing.

Panic flooded him, and he raged his way to her, seeing nothing but her pale still form surrounded by a haze of red and shadow. It was as close as he had felt to the battle rage of the _Katalmach_ since he had met her. It seemed to him an aeon that he strove to reach her side, each movement slowed impossibly, each opponent that came between him and Raewyn a mountain it took him an eternity to remove.

In reality it was but a few seconds until the last of the cursed Shadow Priests fell and he skidded to his knees beside her, the words of healing flowing from his lips even before he was fully seated. As he poured healing energy into her, he poured his very soul with it. He knew he was pouring forth too much, dangerously so, but he didn't hesitate. If he perished here on these stones soaked with her blood, pouring out his last gasp of life to save her, what of it? He would not survive if she were lost in any case….

It was not until she stirred that the panic which gripped him began to ease its icy grip on his heart. He realized then how reckless he had been, and all the doubts he had thought assuaged now flooded back. He was once again allowing himself to be distracted, allowing himself to stray from the path, drawn by his love—yes, love, he admitted to himself in despair—for Raewyn. He loved her more than life itself, and his weakness would be all their undoing! Shame flooded him and he scrambled away from her, slamming shut the connection between them, unable to meet her eyes.

Raewyn first became aware that she couldn't move, and second that she was in considerable pain. In the time it took her to realize this, however, the pain began to recede, replaced by a glorious golden light. She pondered the light unhurriedly before recognizing it. Casavir. He was everywhere in her awareness now, filling her very being not only with healing, but with his steadfastness, his strength, his…love? The thought bore her up as on a wave, and she found she could move. She opened her eyes, her hands seeking Casavir, wanting more than anything to grasp his solidity like a lifeline to bring her back, to look into his eyes and see the golden light reflected there within the blue. But before her eyes had adjusted, before she could raise her still-weak arms, he was gone, fled from her awareness as from her side, and she cried out with the pain of the separation.

Zhjaeve and Sand helped her up, their concern a weak salve on the sting of Casavir's abrupt withdrawal. She told them as she staggered that she was still sore, but the pain that remained was only within; despite his mystifying rejection of her after their intimate contact, Casavir's healing had been thorough.

"It…is done. But know that we have only bought time, not achieved victory. We have only driven it off; it will return, as it said. And there will be more." Zhjaeve rose, finishing her healing of Neeshka. "Know we must find the one the Reaver spoke of, the one who completed the ritual, we will need their aid to defeat the King of Shadows."

Raewyn felt her weariness deepen at the gith's words. "But that could be anyone! We don't even know who that is."

No... but we do not need to. We should return to Crossroad Keep, to the lorekeeper who was imprisoned there with me…."

"Aldanon? Really?"

"Yes. He knows much of Neverwinter...and he may know more than we of where to find some trace of Ammon Jerro."

"Very well." Gathering her breath, fighting back the waves of emotion that threatened to unmake her, Raewyn directed her companions to salvage anything which might tell them more about these Shadow Reavers before returning to Arvahn via the Song Portal. She could not bear to go through West Harbor again.

And so Raewyn led her company out of the Ilefarn ruin through the Portal, nursing her invisible wounds. When they emerged in the peaceful sunlight of the Hills of Arvahn, she suggested they rest there for a day before heading back to Crossroad Keep. Her companions seemed content with the chance to rest; they were all near exhaustion.

Raewyn settled near the fire, seeking enough warmth to penetrate her chilled core.

"I can't believe we came all this way... for nothing." She shivered, the cold sinking deeper into her bones .

"Nothing? Know that we have completed four parts of the ritual, we have learned another holds the fifth, and most importantly, we know that our enemy fears our plans."

"I know, thank you, Zhjaeve...I just feel like we should do something."

"Know that this road is at an end, but time may have opened other roads to us. There is hope, you must believe it." Raewyn looked over to Casavir, but the paladin didn't meet her gaze.

"Know that we have two weapons against the King of Shadows. The ritual in all its parts, and a fully-forged sword of the githyanki. We will need the sword no matter what transpires. Let us pursue that path, and perhaps the second path shall be revealed to us."

Raewyn took a deep breath, forcing her sorrows to the back of her mind. "So how do we turn the shards into a sword?"

"Ammon Jerro knew much of the githyanki silver swords. Finding his haven and recovering the knowledge of those swords is the only step we may take on this path now."

"Alright, then. We'll see if Aldanon has managed to dig up anything useful. For now, let's get some rest."

As she lay beside the fire, she stared at the paladin's profile where he sat at watch. If he was aware of her scrutiny, he gave no sign. Had she imagined feeling Casavir's love pouring through her? He had never healed her so deeply before. She knew he had brought her from the very brink of death, taxing his power to the limit at some risk to himself. Perhaps what she thought was love pouring from him was merely the grace and power of Tyr, channeled into a soul-deep healing? No, it _felt_ like Casavir, it _was_ Casavir, in a way she couldn't quite explain to herself. It had been him, she simply knew it.

She glanced at him, taking in his drawn features and furrowed brow. She was worried over the toll such a healing had taken on him, in addition to the lingering ache she felt since he had withdrawn from her. It felt like the ache of a long-lost limb, the pain not of something present, but of something absent. He had not said a word to her since healing her, he had even avoided meeting her gaze. He had not behaved this way after healing any of the others, even when exhaustion overcame him in the aftermath of some of their more savage battles. Clearly something was different, and that difference seemed to be her and the glowing, golden awareness that had flowed between them. She felt much as she had when they had danced, when it seemed they had been so close to...something, before Casavir had pulled back suddenly, almost violently.

She sighed. She cherished the paladin. He was her most trusted companion. She valued his insight, his wisdom, his steadiness. If she was being honest with herself, no matter how she tried to pretend otherwise, she loved him. She loved his warmth, his goodness, his heart. He filled her heart with peace, and her dreams with passion. But she was beginning to despair of ever reaching him, or understanding what his feeling for her might be. She sighed again; it was going to be a long journey back to the Keep.

When they returned, Casavir excused himself from Raewyn and the rest, needing some time alone to meditate and pray. He felt himself very much in need of Tyr's peace since the events at West Harbor and in the Illefarn ruin in the Merdelain. But no sooner had he headed out of the Keep's main hall than Bishop cornered him with a sneer.

"Well, well. If it isn't the paladin. Come to dirty your boots with your inferiors?"

Casavir's mood soured further. "I don't have time for you, Bishop."

"Heard you had some trouble back in Neverwinter walls, bad enough to make you flee to Old Owl Well."

"There are troubles within and without Neverwinter's walls, both must be faced." What was the ranger getting at?

Bishop made a show of considering this. "It's just that I thought paladins were loyal to a fault, but had a hard time believing Neverwinter was right all the time, did you?"

Casavir refused to rise to the ranger's bait, but his jaw clenched. The ranger smirked, knowing he had the paladin cornered.

"It surprised me, because I thought paladins were supposed to be devoted to a cause, to a nation, to its people, no matter where it leads, or what your King commands."

"My problems are my own, not Neverwinter's, or yours." came the reply, laced with quiet fury. Damn the man! For all his coarse ways, he was irritatingly intelligent and perceptive. He'd seen the ranger use his intuition to get under Raewyn's skin, and he knew he was attempting the same thing now with him. But damn him if he didn't manage to hit on the very things that had kept Casavir sleepless more nights than he could count.

Bishop laughed archly. "Oh, of course not. A virtuous man like you probably wouldn't dream of lying to yourself." He cleaned his nails with his dagger, speaking casually. "It's just, as I see it, a man's gotta be honest not only with himself, but with his comrades and his allies. And if a man loses faith in allegiance to something as big as Neverwinter, well, he might go a little too far in the other direction...and lose himself to a woman next." Casavir stiffened, choking back his rage, as the ranger leaned forward almost conspiratorially. "Might even follow her into death, drop all his paladin vows right then and there. Is that something you want on your head?"

Casavir wasn't fool enough to deny it; clearly the ranger knew he'd scored a hit regarding his affections for Raewyn. "Do my feelings for her really cause you that much concern?"

"Concern? No, I'm just worried about what kind of trouble it's going to bring if you aren't honest with yourself _this_ time around." After delivering that barb, the ranger turned and left.

Casavir stood fuming. The gall of the ranger, to school him on honesty? How in all the hells had that vile man weaseled out so much of what had happened before he left Neverwinter? Perhaps he had merely guessed, but if so, his perceptions were infuriatingly apt. Casavir vowed not to underestimate the man's intelligence and guile again, for all that he loathed him. Damn him anyway, he was in this matter too perceptive by half.

He took a deep breath. The problem was, the ranger wasn't so very wrong. He had struggled with his allegiance to Neverwinter, caught between his belief in following Neverwinter's orders and actually doing what was right, and chosen against the vows he had taken. And he had struggled with his guilt over his infatuation with Ophala, regarding his emotional distraction and involvement as a personal failure. He had spoken with Raewyn about both of his struggles, and he felt certain she understood much of his conflict. Bishop's taunts had fewer teeth in that regard than the ranger might have wished. He relaxed a little, having reassured himself of that much, at least.

His feelings for Raewyn now were another matter entirely, and the ranger had not been wrong in suggesting he was torn between his vows and his affections for her. Hells, he'd been dead on, and it had been tormenting Casavir since he'd begin to realize Raewyn was precious to him as much more than a worthy leader. He did fear losing himself to her. He didn't trust himself, he didn't trust his emotions, he didn't trust his passions.

He thought back to the night at the Flagon, after her victory at the trial by combat. The sight of her that night and the electricity that had surged between them as they danced haunted him. In his dreams he had relived that dance, that moment when he bent her over, his mouth inches from her own. When he dreamt, they were not interrupted, and they kissed, her passion mirroring his own, until the dream dissolved into a collage of her fiery hair and green eyes, fevered moans and heated touches. A dozen times, two dozen, he'd awoken sweating, panting, his body roused and tense as a bowstring. His desire and frustration drove him to the forest, or the practice yard behind the Keep's smithy, where he had fought his demons in the guise of trees or practice dummies until his arms ached, and exhaustion precluded further dreams.

As a paladin, the favor of Tyr blessed him with a near immunity to the kinds of fears that plagued most men. Since she had found him at the Well, he had one fear, and one only: failing her. He had lived in terror that his feelings….his love, he forced himself to put the name to it...would lead him to do just that. A moment of indecision, a heartbeat's hesitation, an instant of being distracted by her, could be all it took to put her in danger, or to bring everything they were trying to do to ruin. And even deeper still, he feared his passions. The thought of exposing the woman he adored to the raw hunger for her that roiled within him…. He didn't trust himself, and damn him anyway, the ranger knew it.

The ranger was wrong about one thing though, Casavir knew full well what was happening to him. He knew it all too well. He just didn't know what to do about it. Soon, too soon, he'd have to tell Raewyn the truth, all of it. He allowed that perhaps he had one other, only slightly lesser fear. He was terrified she would reject him. It wasn't even so much that she would reject his affections; he never dared to hope he could ever love her openly, or that she would love him. Only in his dreams would he dare to imagine such a thing. He feared...no, he was certain she would find him unfit, unworthy. She would realize he was weak and flawed, that underneath his honor lay the same animal hungers that drove the basest of men, and she would send him from her side. Or perhaps he would be lucky enough to die in her service before that happened.


	23. Chapter 23: New Quarters

A.N.: Finally, we get a kiss! OK, a totally no-canon kiss, but y'all needed some paladin love eventually, no? And it always bothered me that there was no dialog about the KC choosing to build a Temple of Try - wouldn't that have been kind of a big deal to Casavir?

* * *

While Casavir wrestled with his doubts on their return from Arvahn, Raewyn had been kept busy by the demands of the Keep. Kana and Master Veedle, her architect, had virtually assailed her with decisions to be made and problems to be solved. It wasn't until a couple days after their return that an exhausted Knight Captain finally got the chance to see the quarters Veedle told her were reserved for her, as the leader of Crossroad Keep. She protested that she was perfectly happy taking one of the rooms adjacent to those her companions occupied, but he and Kana had both insisted.

"Captain, the men expect you to occupy the finest quarters. It denotes your position, and it is an honor in which your men take pride."

"Exactly, my lady!" the architect crowed triumphantly, bolstered by Kana's agreement. "The Knight Captain can't just bunk with everyone else! It simply doesn't suit the dignity of your rank!"

"Veedle, my 'rank,'" she indicated the term with a curve of her fingers, "was 'swamp rat with an attitude' until barely a month ago!" Nevertheless, neither could be dissuaded, so she had grudgingly agreed to move into the Captain's quarters.

"My lady," Veedle called after her. "I still need to know what you want me to do with that ruined church we talked about…"

"I'll tell you this evening, I promise!" Raewyn called back. She went first to the Phoenix Tail where she'd been staying and gathered her meager belongings so she could move them into the grand chamber. It took her less than 5 minutes to put everything away, after which she stood in the middle of the room uncomfortably, feeling distinctly out of place. She decided to look around a bit, but even though the chamber was hers, she felt like she was twelve years old again, snooping through Daeghun's room when he'd been out on a hunting trip. The thought made her smile, and she felt a little less overwhelmed.

There was a small bookshelf and Raewyn perused the titles, finding a few of interest. She sorted those out onto a single shelf, and decided that she'd send the rest down to the library. Certainly Aldanon stood a better chance of putting The Mating Habits and Life Cycle of the Wererat to good use than she would. Maybe she'd see if there were some volumes more to her interest when she did so. She wondered what had become of Daeghun's library; if it had survived the devastation of her home. She missed her father, and worried once again for his safety. In fact, she missed West Harbor fiercely, though she doubted she'd have been satisfied staying there permanently, even had it not been destroyed.

With a sigh, she moved to investigate the rest of the room. There was a comfortable sitting area arranged around the fire. She could easily picture her friends gathered around telling stories and laughing late into the night, and she made a mental note to see if there were a few more chairs to be found. Raewyn hoped that her companions would not hesitate to come see her here; the last thing she wanted was be feel even more isolated from her friends than she already did.

The bed was huge, and her imagination ran a bit wild at the ways such a bed might be enjoyed, making her blush. Once her heartbeat settled down, she instead imagined herself alone in the massive bed, and her heart sank, loneliness filling her. Surely she'd drown in the middle of a sea of cotton all by herself. At least it looked comfortable…. She turned from it to inspect the desk, and noticed an open book set out upon it.

Happy for a distraction from her maudlin thoughts, she crossed to see what it was. She found a volume of poetry, opened to a poem Raewyn recognized at once. She sat down, reading the first stanzas, scarcely needing to see the words to recall the lines.

_So as you shiver in the cold and the dark,  
Look into the fire and see in its spark.  
My eye  
Watching over you._

_As you walk in the wind's whistling claws.  
Listen past the howling of the wolf's jaws.  
My song  
Comes to you._

She'd learned this poem, called "Wind by the Fireside," almost a decade ago, though she'd learned a slightly different version from Daeghun's library, and she hadn't thought of it in years. Seeing it now, with thoughts of the paladin never far from her, she read it as if for the first time, and a tear escaped her eye.

_And when you're lost in trackless snow,  
Look up high where the eagles go.  
My star  
Shines for you._

_In deep, dark mine or on crumbling peak,  
Hear the words of love I speak.  
My thoughts  
Are with you._

It was all too easy to imagine herself sending her thoughts to Casavir across the distances, and she shivered, hoping they would never be so far apart as the poem suggested. Once again she felt a surge of loneliness, trapped in her inability to touch him, hold him, even tell him how she felt. 'So near,' she mused sadly, 'and yet so far.' She took a moment to wonder who had left the volume on the desk, open to this poem.

_You are not forsaken  
You are not forgotten.  
The North cannot swallow you.  
The snows cannot bury you.  
__I will come for you._

_Faerûn will grow warmer,  
And the gods will smile.  
But oh, my love, guard yourself well.  
All this may not happen for a long, long while._

'May not happen for a long, long while…' she repeated to herself. She read the poem again. 'No, it can't be so long, I won't let it.' She resolved that she would find a way to reveal her heart to Casavir. She suddenly remembered something about which she had been wanting to speak with the paladin. She considered that maybe this matter would help her in her goal, and she went to seek him. She found him consulting with some of the Graycloaks, and asked if he would mind taking a tour of the Keep with her.

"Certainly, my lady," he replied, pleased to see her. They had both been busy the last two days since their return, and he was glad of a chance to spend some time with her. His mind was by no means settled, but he had managed to stow most of his concerns beneath a blanket of patience, and he resolved not to let his worries spoil the lovely evening. They wandered the Keep, seeing what work had been done, and what still remained in ruins. They passed the shop Raewyn had set side for Deekin, and stopped in to see how he was faring.

The kobold greeted them as soon as they entered the shop.

"Captain-lady! Tall quiet friend of Captain-lady! Welcome to Deekin's shop!"

Laughing, Raewyn looked around. "How is it going, Deekin? It looks like you're settling in fine."

"Deekin sooooo happy to have a place of his own, with roof and walls." He gave them a toothy grin. "Neverwinter had walls, but no roof. Not like as much."

"I am glad you like it here, my friend. When will you be open, do you think? You'll be one of the first shops here, and people are looking forward to getting things they need. You'll have no lack of custom, I suspect."

"Very soon; maybe tomorrow, Deekin thinks. Deekin have some stuff now, maybe get more if more and more people come to the Keep."

"Excellent! I'll let Kana and Veedle know."

"Deekin owe you much gratitude, would be willing to trade, and buy, and sell, and sing for Captain of Keep, if Captain-lady wishes it."

"That would be wonderful! I'll speak with Sal, too. Perhaps you could perform at the Phoenix Tail now and again, as well."

They left to the sound of the kobold warbling away happily. Raewyn met Casavir's bemused gaze.

"My lady, do you think it's fair to encourage his singing ambitions?"

"Next to Grobnar, he's a regular siren! I think Sal will be thrilled!" She laughed. "Truthfully, when he gets going, he's not so bad, and he's written some pretty good songs about his travels."

"As you say, my lady" the paladin replied solemnly, but Raewyn saw the corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement.

As amusing as their visit to Deekin had been, Raewyn had something in particular she wanted to show him, so she steered him around to the end of the lane between the kobold's shop and the armory where Edario had set up. The lane ended at a half-ruined stone building.

"So, Casavir, I was wondering if I might ask your advice on something?"

"Of course, my lady. What is it?"

"Well, this is it, actually." she gestured at the building before them.

Casavir just looked at her, a raised eyebrow the only indication of his puzzlement.

"Come on in, I want us to take a look around."

She pulled out a large and rusted skeleton key, and after a bit of jiggling and cursing under her breath, the lock yielded with a scraping click. It took both of them to push open the heavy iron-banded door.

They entered cautiously, their eyes taking a moment to become accustomed to the gloom. The steeply angled evening light filtering through the beams made dancing sparkles of the dust motes stirred by their steps. There was little of the interior remaining, and the much of roof was gone, along with portions of two of the upper walls.

"You see," she began, "I've been thinking about what happens after all this is over. Nevalle told me he thinks Nasher means to station me here permanently."

"And is this your wish as well?"

"I think so. I'm coming to love it here, and so many people I care about are here. I think what we are building here is important, and lasting. I'd like to be around to see it grow."

They explored for a while, then Casavir turned to her again. "I agree, my lady. But what has that to do with this?" He indicated the ruined building.

"Well…" she began slowly, considering her words carefully. "I have had several…offers…for this space, several suggestions as to how it could be restored and used."

She walked slowly, running her hands over the walls as she spoke. Bare as they were, they looked to have been skillfully made, the stones smooth and neatly fitted.

She turned back to the paladin. "But I have something in mind, and I wanted to see what your thoughts on it might be."

"And what is that?"

"I was thinking this could be a temple. A Temple to Tyr."

An unreadable look crossed his face before he schooled his features to neutrality. "I see..." He paused to think a moment. "Certainly having the Order as a presence at the Keep would be a positive thing. It would bring visitors, but not the sort likely to cause trouble. The temple could also provide many services to the residents here. And certainly it could do much to further what you have begun in establishing the reputation of Crossroad Keep as a bastion of law in this region."

"Yes, I know all that, though I'm glad to hear you see it as I do. But one could say much the same of many of the orders that have contacted me."

Casavir nodded in agreement, answering her cautiously. "That is true, my lady."

She changed subjects abruptly. "Have you given any more thought to what you will do after we defeat the King of Shadows?"

He looked at her, something akin to panic robbing him of words. She came to his rescue with a smile.

"Sorry, Casavir; I didn't mean to catch you point blank like that. You see, I wasn't asking your opinion about the Temple for the sake of the Keep. I want to know what you think, personally."

At his look of astonishment, she continued, smiling. "My first thought was to simply have it built and well, surprise you. But I thought perhaps I should ask if you would want a temple here."

"If I would want…I don't understand, my lady."

"You see, I must confess, I'm not above a bit of bribery if it would help keep you here…." He still looked stunned, so she clarified. "Casavir, I was hoping you would be willing to stay on at Crossroad Keep. I know building a community isn't the same kind of fight you may be used to, but I think it's a worthy one. I would value your experience and wisdom…and your friendship…as much as your blade. And so, a Temple of Tyr."

His eyes went wide. "My lady! You would make this choice, build a temple here…you would do this...for me?"

She just nodded, looking away, a little embarrassed, but smiling.

"I…" Casavir was stunned. This was something he had dared not hope for. "You don't need to…. I would be more than honored to remain in your service, here or anywhere, for as long as you will have me."

"I'm glad, Casavir. I…."

She stopped as a rumbling sound echoed in the chamber. They looked up as dust sifted down from the crumbling beams overhead. With a hideous groan, the beam above them began to give way, sending a shower of broken stone and splinters heading straight at Raewyn's head.

Casavir leapt toward her, pushing her up against the stone wall behind her, praying it was as stable as it appeared. He flattened himself against her, pushing her head down and curling his arms over her. He ducked his own head away from the falling debris.

Raewyn's hands had flown up to his chest as he pinned her, and she gripped his tunic tightly. The beams crashed down behind the paladin with a roar, bringing with them several stones tumbling from the top of the wall just a few feet away.

They waited for the sounds to subside before Casavir glanced over his shoulder to look for further dangers. He turned back to Raewyn, his hands moving with concern over her head and shoulders.

"Are you alright, my lady?" he asked, brow deeply furrowed with worry.

"I…I think so…."

Casavir stared down at her, his heart thundering in his chest. The fear that washed through him moments ago receded slowly, leaving in its place a deep and anguished urgency. Gods, he loved her, and he could lose her so easily! His eyes held hers, his breath coming fast and shallow.

Casavir had not stepped back from her, and she grew intensely aware of his powerful frame pressed up against her. Her shaky breaths came not from fear now, but from a heady rush of desire. His eyes stared into hers, their irises darkened to sapphire. She lost herself in the blue, seeing an answering desire there.

Slowly, almost too slowly to see, he drew closer. Her eyes fluttered shut as his lips brushed hers. The kiss was soft, gentle, a tentative question, a shy promise. Raewyn's hands moved up his chest, sliding around his neck. Casavir drew back a moment, meeting her eyes for the space of a heartbeat before his mouth reclaimed hers. Now his kiss was urgent, demanding, full of the passion she had always suspected was lurking under the paladin's reserved exterior.

Raewyn returned the kiss, hungry for more, pulling him closer. She had longed for this kiss for months, and she was growing dizzy with the sensations that spiraled within her. A deep moan escaped her throat. At the sound, Casavir pulled back again, abruptly this time, his eyes wide, his doubts returning to him in a flood.

"My lady….I…I am sorry. Forgive me...I...cannot."

He turned and fled, leaving Raewyn flushed and panting.

She smiled nevertheless. Casavir's flight from strong emotion was nothing she hadn't seen before. But now she felt certain the emotion was there. She hugged herself and looked around the ruined building.

"Well, my Lord Tyr, looks like you're going to have a new house."


	24. Chapter 24: Jerro's Sanctum

The valley Aldanon sent them to was perhaps less remote than Raewyn had expected, but the Haven hidden there bore challenging safeguards. But, the better part of a day, a few scorches, and some nasty acid burns later, they were given permission to enter by the great hulking golem that guarded the door. Only one thing remained: Jerro blood.

Shandra approached the small pedestal to which the golem had directed them with obvious hesitation.

Raewyn touched her shoulder. "Are you sure you're willing to do this? We can try to find another way…"

"Thanks, but there is no other way, and we all know it."

Shandra drew out her pocket knife, and made a clean cut across her palm. She let a few drops of her blood run into the shallow concavity that topped the pedestal. Instead of pooling in the bowl, the red drops seeped into the black basalt, leaving no trace. Shandra looked a Raewyn, who shrugged. They looked to the golem, who remained silent, and then to the door, which remained solidly unmoving.

"Raewyn..!" came Shandra's voice, shaking with uncertainty. Raewyn turned to her, but she was gone. "Shandra!"

Whirling back to the golem, she demanded "Where is she?"

The golem didn't stir, but they heard a deep grinding rumble. The door to the haven opened. It seemed the offering of Jerro blood had been accepted.

"It's a Jerro Haven. It won't hurt her, right?" Raewyn asked her companions. Their faces reflected the same doubt and worry she felt. "Let's get this over with."

They readied their weapons and with a last look at the valley behind them, they stepped through the door to the Haven. Entering the shadowed doorway and creeping slowly through the stone hallway, the first being they encountered was the elegant and urbane devil, Mephasm. Raewyn stopped in astonishment.

"Greetings, my friend." He showed no surprise to seem them, and his greeting was cordial.

Neeshaka, however groaned. "Not him again! Didn't we send you back to wherever it was the last time?" The tiefling was clearly not happy to see Mephasm. Behind her, Casavir bristled, but said nothing.

"Mephasm? What…?"

"We are not meeting again by accident, I assure you."

Raewyn looked around he chamber to see the devil trapped within a glowing circle much like the one that had trapped him when last they met, but larger, and more ornate.

"What are you doing here?"

The devil shrugged eloquently, his sheepish expression quite out of place below his curving horns and glowing eyes. "You find me bound once more against my will. This time my cage is larger and more secure."

"Can you help us? We need to…."

"I'm afraid not. There is a strong enchantment here that prevents me from being banished, willingly or otherwise."

"Who has you trapped here, Mephasm? I thought you were free after the Gith lair?"

"The dark warlock who summoned the demons to the githyanki complex where we first met has made this place his lair. From a laboratory at the center he commands the energy which he siphons from the demons and devils held captive here."

"Who is he?"

"You of all people should know the power of names. This warlock wears anonymity like a cloak to shield himself from his enemies."

"Can you tell us anything at all?"

"I already told you that I'm held here against my will. My powers, as with the other demons and devils here, are being siphoned away to power this wizard's private war. Only the warlock himself could free me...or one who is a blood descendant of Ammon Jerro. Such a person could command the power of this place, but it is my understanding that Ammon Jerro's line has died out."

"No, it hasn't. His granddaughter, Shandra is here, but we were separated."

"It appears you know something I did not, for once. I had wondered how you were able to enter this place. You must find her. She is in great peril here."

"How do we find her? Or the wizard?"

"I will help you as I am able. I do not know where Shandra is, but I hope she will find her way to me before encountering the other demons and devils here." Mephasm paused, weighing his words carefully before continuing. "My influence in this place is limited. I can tell you about some of the other demons and devils that are trapped here, and I can also open a passageway to allow you to reach one of them. Trapped in these summoning circles, they cannot be harmed, nor can they harm each other. But even here, they fight Blood War, the ultimate conflict between the Nine Hells and the Abyss. This place exploits the strife between demons and devils. Great energy is created by the constant tension between opposites here, and that energy is harnessed to empower the master of this place."

"How does that help us?"

"You must convince three of the others to help you. With my assistance, a portal to the center can be opened. But it will be no easy task, as the other fiends will be... reluctant to help you, unless it serves their interests. But, you are in a unique position; you may roam these halls with relative freedom while they are trapped. If you can aid one against a rival, it may convince that one to help you."

Mephasm opened the portal in the corner of the chamber which contained his circle.

"Best of luck, my friends. Come back here when you have enlisted three allies."

As they made their way towards the chamber in which the next of the demons was imprisoned, Raewyn suddenly staggered, reaching out for balance. Casavir grabbed her elbow to steady her. "My lady? What is it?"

"It's Shandra….I...I heard her."

"I didn't hear anything." Raewyn glanced at Sand, knowing he had the sharpest hearing of any of them, more acute even than Elanee's.

"No, Sand, it was...in my head, in my mind." She concentrated hard.

_"Shandra?"_

_"Raewyn? I can move around this place, but I can't find you. I think…."_

She was gone again, and Raewyn's disorientation subsided. They continued on down the corridor. As the rounded the corner, a small group of winged demon women flew at them, shrieking insults and lashing out with sharp claws. Though they were fast, they had scant defenses, and soon the companions had sent the last of them back to whatever hell had spawned them. Beyond the ambush lay another of the larger chambers which housed the powerful beings imprisoned by the sorcerer. Another succubus stood in the center of the this chamber, trapped within a circle like the one that had trapped Mephasm and the others. All the succubi had possessed a dark beauty, but this one was stunning, and she radiated a dark sensuality. She clapped in mocking delight as Raewyn and her companions entered.

"Well done! You have earned an audience with me."

Neeshka whispered to Raewyn, her voice thick with warning. "Watch out, she's a powerful succubus...they bore easily. And the things that amuse them...well, we don't want to go there, trust me. Or at least I don't." The rogue gave a little shudder.

Behind her, Sand spoke out, sounding a little awestruck. "You may wish to stand back... if this is truly a succubus, no one is better equipped to deal with her charms than I."

"Relax, you two. Let's just see what happens." Turning to the succubus, Raewyn spoke louder. "Were those your harpies we just killed? Not very impressive…"

The succubus gave a low, silky laugh. "They are fodder. I surround myself with them for amusement. But oh, how I long for more masculine company."

"Who are you?"

"I am Blooden, mistress of the Deep Crest, the breeding grounds of the Abyss."

"It seems you are presently mistress only of the few stones within that circle."

"You're a female of your species. Did you...did you bring any males?" She looked Raewyn over critically, then examined her companions.

"Oh, but wait...look at this." Her crimson gaze found Casavir, sliding up and down his tall frame with blatant hunger. "A male vessel, thick with virtue and doubt...so close to cracking until the guilt runs out."

Casavir's jaw clenched, but he spoke calmly, with only a hint of contempt in his voice. "But do not come too close, 'holy' one...your presence is more than I can bear…."

Blooden smiled seductively, clearly pleased at the paladin's discomfort. "...as I'm sure my presence is more than you can bear. Did you come all this way for me?" Her tone reminded Raewyn of Ophala's simpering, and she rolled her eyes.

"It was not my choice to come here, succubus." Casavir's tone made his revulsion clear. "As for your 'charms,' they are wasted on me."

Blooden only gave another throaty laugh. "Oh, my dear 'virtuous' one, if this form displeases you, perhaps taking the form of your noble leader would stir that heart of yours."

Casavir bristled in response, his retort sharp. "Be silent!" Raewyn looked at him in surprise as he went on, his teeth clenched in rage. "Your mocking I will bear, but mocking her I will not abide!"

The succubus drew in a sharp breath. "Ohhh! Such passion!" She ran her clawed hands up her torso, and her breath came fast and shallow, as though she was in ecstasy. She gave a throaty moan. "Oh, you are wasted in your temple's walls, paladin...such a shame."

Raewyn looked back at Casavir, finding the the succubus' words surprisingly insightful, for that was how she had always seen the paladin. She was further surprised to see him flush crimson at the demoness' words. He looked embarrassed...no, more than that, positively mortified! Putting away that thought for later examination, Raewyn focused with some effort on the matter to hand.

"We need help opening a portal to the laboratory in the center of this Haven. Will you help us?"

"I don't like this." Casavir's warning came to her quietly, muttered between clenched teeth. "Dealing with their kind always carries a price."

She turned to him, and answered quietly, her eyes steady on his. "I don't like it any more than you do, but we have more important things to worry about."

He lowered his gaze with a curt nod. "As long as we are on our guard. But you are right... there are greater matters at stake."

The succubus aided them, and together with Mephasm and two more of the imprisoned demons, they opened the portal to the center of the haven. For a moment, they stood there in bewilderment. There was no one here. Raewyn was moving to search the dark corners of the chamber when another surge of dizziness struck her, and she heard Shandra's voice once more.

_"Raewyn! You can't beat him. The only way to do it is to free the demons; they're granting him all his power."_

_"Shandra! How do we do that?"_

_"There's a way to stop him... but it's going to require some blood being spilt...mine."_

_"Shandra, no!"_

_"There's no way I'm letting you die, not after all we've been through."_

Rawyn's dizziness faded as a flare of light indicated the arrival of the Haven's master. To their shock, it was the same sorcerer they had encountered in the githyanki hideout and at the Moonstone Mask. Immediately, he raised his hands and everything spun out of control. They were tossed like leaves upon his wild magics, and Raewyn feared they would perish after all, when he suddenly doubled over gasping.

"What... what have you done? No!"

In a sudden rage, he ran to the side of the room and vanished, and his magics dissipated, leaving them bruised and gasping.

"Tell me he did not just run from us." Neeshka growled. "He's really making me mad."

Picking herself up, Raewyn looked around, her fury echoing the teifling's.

Zhjaeve rose to her feet, her breath labored. "Know that we must follow that one. If not, he will bring ruin upon us, and this plane."

"He's...he's just lucky…" Khelgar growled, grimacing in pain. "...I didn't beat him when he was...tossing me around and snapping my ribs...urhh."

"If he escapes, we will have to fight him again, and he will be better prepared. We must pursue him." Casavir's voice was grim as he spoke, cautiously rotating his shoulder, wincing.

Raewyn nodded in agreement and cast her awareness out, seeking Shandra. For a moment she heard her voice.

_"...grandfather...I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…." _ After that, Raewyn heard a sharp cry, and then there was only silence.

"After him!" Raewyn yelled, panic in her voice. "Shandra was going to try and stop him, but she…come on!"

The companions skidded through the portal in time to see Shandra crumpled lifeless on the floor, and Mephasm taunting Ammon Jerro, for he was indeed the sorcerer.

"'Grandfather?'" Jerro growled. "What nonsense is this?"

Mephasm regarded him coldly, but spoke with the same urban manner. "It is truth, Ammon. And by such truths is one damned."

Ammon shook his head, anger hardening his face further. "I have no kin. All were killed in the war against the King of Shadows. It's not possible…."

"Blood finds a way, Ammon. Always." At Ammon's heated denial, the devil went on. "You know only Jerro blood could have broken the circles in this haven...as her blood has now broken mine. There are laws, Jerro…." He began to fade, and he shot a polite nod at Raewyn before he vanished. His voice lingered a moment longer. "And when one carries such laws too far, they will take you where I go now."

The companions stood in stunned silence, until Grobnar spoke, as if pleading.

"I'm sorry, but Shandra?" His voice broke, and Raewyn turned away, burying her face in Casavir's shoulder with a muffled sob. "Shandra, please get up. You see, we've won, really. We've come all this way to save you, and we got here just in time...haven't we?"

"Get up you cowardly dog! Face us!" Khelgar sputtered in fury, but tears glistened in the Ironfist's eyes.

Neeshka's anguish sounded at the same time. "He...killed Shandra! Let's gut him!"

"No…" It was Zhjaeve. "...there is no telling what his death could do to this place. Even with the demons gone, it is still tied to him."

"I...What do I…." Raewyn had no answer for them.

"His will has been broken by his own hands. I think his threat to us is over, _Kalach-cha_."

Ammon spoke for the first time since the devil had left. "Kill me now, and this place will collapse, and we will all die." He sighed heavily, sounding like little more than a broken old man. "In my blindness, I have done a great wrong. Perhaps it is not too late to rectify it...and where one was lost, I still might save you all." He stood slowly. "Only a fraction of power remains in my Haven. But it will be enough to take us from this place."

A deep rumble echoed beneath their feet, heralding a collapse. Ammon raised his arms, and as eldritch words flowed from his lips, their vision went white. The next thing they saw were the cobbled paths leading into Crossroad Keep.


	25. Chapter 25: Return from Haven

Ammon Jerro stood alone before the fireplace in the common room of the Phoenix Tail, silent and stone-faced, bitter anger rolling off of him in waves. Raewyn's companions sat clustered around the other tables, while she and Zhjaeve spoke quietly in the far corner.

Bishop cast an appraising stare at the wizard. "So that's Ammon Jerro...not dead, after all." He muttered angrily under his breath, "Glad we made sure of that before running into his labyrinth of demons."

Sand looked a warning at the ranger. "Yes, he is alive... and he is much more powerful than tales ever indicated."

"So what now? We imprison him? Throw him to the Watch?"

Bishop answered the dwarf's question with a derisive sneer. "Tell me you're joking. He'll send the entire District to the Abyss and then he'll come after us."

His assessment was correct, and Casavir, surprisingly, seemed to agree with the ranger. "Justice must be served...but I am not certain he would find justice within Neverwinter's walls."

"We could throw him off the Docks." piped Neeshka.

Rolling his eyes at the rogue's humor, Bishop eyed the wizard again, his tone threatening. "I say we get what we need from him, then take care of him." He turned back to the rest conspiratorially. "No one needs to know."

Casavir bristled, the moment of accord between paladin and the ranger clearly over. "He murdered Shandra Jerro, and he must answer for it. But we will not answer murder with murder."

At the next table, Grobnar sat miserably, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, I still don't understand what went wrong...if only we'd had some way of getting to her in time.…"

Elanee put her arm around his small shoulders. "There is no sense to be made of it, Grobnar. Now, we must simply accept." The gnome nodded, his misery clearly not much abated.

Casavir looked with sympathy at the miserable bard, then turned his glance back to Raewyn. He shook his head. "It is our leader I am worried about."

And he was worried. She'd barely spoken to anyone since Ammon had spent the last of his Haven's power to send them back to Crossroad Keep. As grateful as he'd been not to face the rigors of the long journey back, he wondered if the few days travel might not have helped Raewyn, helped all of them come to terms with Shandra's death. His glance moved to where the sorcerer stood before the fire, and he recalled the hard pain in Raewyn's eyes as she'd told Ammon to await her at the Phoenix tail. With him traveling with their company, perhaps even the shock of so sudden a return was kinder than several days of proximity to him.

The paladin heaved a sigh, knowing as much as he wished to, he could not take the burdens from her shoulders. He resolved to lend her his strength and support where he could, however.

If the loss of Shandra hit all of them hard, it hit Raewyn hardest of all. Even now, with the whole of Crossroad Keep looking to her, she had never been prepared for the loss of one of her companions. Of any of them, Shandra had always seemed the most untouched by the burden of battle. It was perhaps ironic, since she herself had lost everything, and joined them only when she had nothing left. But her forthright spirit had affected all of them, and her death—such a senseless death at that—shook them all. Even Bishop, when he heard what happened, seemed unable to muster his usual drawled comebacks, instead directing his ire at the murderous wizard. But Raewyn felt she was wholly to blame, and that she had failed Shandra unforgivably.

Her distress was furthered by having to deal with Ammon Jerro. He was remorseful over his granddaughter's death, but it was not enough to curb his innately abrasive arrogance. Raewyn would happily have sent him to prison, back to his Haven, to the coldest of the Nine Hells, for all that, but it seemed she had little choice in the matter. Ammon held the final component of the Ritual of Purification, together with both knowledge and power they needed if they were to succeed.

She approached him, knowing she needed to find out what he knew of the Silver Sword. As she approached, however, he whirled on her, snarling.

"Why did you bring her to my haven? Even though she was of my bloodline, you knew she did not have the strength to survive there."

"We had no choice. We need the knowledge you have to fight the Kind of Shadows."

He sighed tiredly, some of the fight going out of him, leaving a weary bitterness in tis wake. "I have fought the King of Shadows before. I have made... pacts...I have studied him, tried to learn his weaknesses, and the extent of his power. And always, it has been a war with few victories."

"Tell us what you know."

"Surely you know of the Ritual of Purification...you should know I have performed part of the Ritual myself already."

"Yes, we know. And I have performed the other four. It seems neither of use can succeed alone." Jerro raised his eyebrows at that, but refused to show surprise.

"You are correct. Without it, we cannot strike at the King of Shadows, and the battle is lost before it begins."

"What is the King of Shadows? I know he was once the guardian of Illefarn, but what is it?"

"The King of Shadows is no mortal creature, more a force than anything else. But there is something that can harm him. Those shards you have...they are part of the sword of Gith."

"Yes, we know that as well. I have been hounded by githyanki Sword Stalkers, until I defeated Zeeaire, the last of them on this plane." So far, Raewyn was not impressed by Jerro's knowledge, for he had not yet told her anything she did not already know, and she was in no mood for games.

"Once the King of Shadows was driven back by githyanki warriors wielding hundreds... maybe thousands of those blades. But the sword of Gith is more than a simple silver sword... and it can wound the King of Shadows, like it did, once, long ago."

"In the last battle with the King of Shadows, when the blade was shattered?"

"A part of the blade got lodged in your chest, in the battle in West Harbor, when you were a child. And whether you like it or not, you are now that weapon. The more shards you gather, the stronger that weapon becomes. Together, we can stop the King of Shadows, and we must. I have completed part of the Ritual of Purification. If you kill me, the battle is lost as soon as my heart stops beating. Without me, you cannot win."

Raewyn regarded him a long moment. "Because of the ritual it seems we are forced allies. But I do not like it, and if you attempt to work against me or mine, I will see you pay for your crimes sooner than later."

Jerro gave a harsh bark that might have been a bitter laugh, or merely a scoff. "My naive young friend, I will be paying for my pacts and my crimes for millennia when I die. There are places in the hells reserved for ones such as me." He turned his eyes back to her, the glowing patterns casting his features with an unearthly glow. His voice was devoid of emotion, as though he were making note of the weather. "Whatever punishments you think I deserve, I will suffer a thousand-fold; well beyond anything your small mind can imagine." After his angry and arrogant tone, the calm with which he uttered those words made Raewyn shudder. She recalled Mephasm's parting words to the sorcerer, and did not doubt for a moment that his assessment was correct.

The determination returned to his voice when he spoke again. "But I will strike at the King of Shadows before I leave this plane. And you will have no stronger ally than I in this, both in knowledge and power."

Raewyn nodded. "Very well. It seems we are on the same side after all."

"Then we must gather our forces against the King of Shadows."

With her heart no less heavy despite Ammon's reassurances, Raewyn turned to her companions. She met their eyes one by one, seeing her own sadness mirrored in each of their faces, even Bishop's.

"My friends, as loathe as I am to say it, it seems we must accept the aid of Ammon Jerro. He knows, as we all do, that he will pay a steep price for his deeds, but it is not for us to impose it. For now, the fate of all of Neverwinter, possibly all of Faerûn depends on us, and we must use whatever help we have to hand. I hope Shandra would have understood."

She turned then, intending to seek the solace of her quarters, but Casavir stopped her. "My lady, may we speak a moment?"

She paused, considering. She didn't want to speak at all, but part of her longed for the comfort of Casavir's company. She nodded to him, and he moved to draw her to a table away from the rest. He had little time to speak with her, however, for Nevalle strode in and seeing Raewyn approached her purposefully. It seemed she was called to attend Lord Nasher immediately. She was also to go alone.


	26. Chapter 26: Becoming One of Nine

THis is a short chapter, I know. For some reason I struggled with how to write this section more than any of the rest of it. The next one is much more exciting, I promise!

* * *

Casavir remained in the Phoenix Tail long after the others had left. They rest had speculated on the mysterious nature of Nevalle's sudden appearance with a summons from Nasher, but Casavir suspected he knew what was afoot. Knowing a bit more about the working of the Court of Neverwinter, he knew that to be summoned, alone, to attend Nasher usually meant either censure, which he found most unlikely, or knighthood.

He sat far into the night with a bottle of the Keep's finest Waterdeep wine at his elbow, an indulgence he rarely allowed himself. As he slowly enjoyed the rich vintage, he contemplated the matter with no small turmoil. Certainly Raewyn deserved this honor, and he was happy to see she would finally be given the recognition that was her due. He had felt she had been poorly used by Nasher during the trial and her posting to the Keep. The resources and freedoms she would now enjoy in such a position would make her task at Crossroad easier, and of that he knew she would be grateful. But knighthood would impose restrictions on her, as Casavir himself knew too well, which might not sit lightly on her shoulders for the same reasons they had not sat lightly on his.

He was somewhat startled to realize she would now hold the same rank he had so abruptly and scandalously rejected. It was this that he found unsettled him most. It wasn't that he believed she would be drawn into the sort of intrigues and deceptions of life at court; he knew she found such things as distasteful as he did. She also possessed a greater finesse for dealing with people, so he was certain she could manage to navigate those waters without becoming as corrupt and scheming as so many other knights had. So why did her new rank fill him with such dread?

He thought back to the reason he had asked to speak with her privately just before Nevalle's appearance. He had become unable to hide from her the fear he had come to realize after her near-escape in the Mere; that he would put her or their cause at risk because he flew to her side instead of meeting a greater threat. Her rank did not increase this fear; he loved her for who she was, not her rank, and his concern for her would not change with it. It crossed his mind that perhaps in her elevation he found a new fear: that she would no longer have need of him.

An orphan from West Harbor and a rogue paladin were not too dissimilar to travel as companions. He did not consider himself her equal; she led and he followed, and he was content to have it so. But a Knight of Neverwinter? She could have her choice of those to fight beside her. Surely there would come a day when she would realize he was not a fitting man to serve her? Not for the first time, Casavir found himself half hoping Tyr would grant him a noble death in the coming fight before such a day dawned if dawn it must.

Somewhere at the back of his mind, the question crept in whether his true concern was less his fitness to remain her man-at-arms than it was his fitness to court her. This notion he dismissed as nonsense; never had he considered that he might love her openly, or have his love returned. Nevertheless, the doubt lingered, like an itch he couldn't scratch.

When word came, at last, from Neverwinter, the paladin's first reaction was fury he had not been allowed to be at her side. Castle Never attacked, and Raewyn alone to fight off who knew what manner of summoned evil! Damn Nasher and Nevalle and their constant intrigues!

At the same time, he felt a profound pride in her. She had won through Neverneath, and found the tomb of the Nine. Such was the stuff of legends, and despite his relief at her safety and his pride in her accomplishments, it did little to soothe his concerns of the previous day. Nor had her induction into the Nine. If a Knight of Neverwinter had little proper use for a disgraced oath breaker, then one of the Nine had even less. At last, his thoughts and emotions in turmoil, he retreated to the Temple, the same one she had told him she built for him. Whenever he entered the Temple now, he felt her presence surround him, as though the walls she had commanded built carried the echo of her care for him. That thought comforted him a little, as he knelt near the front, the scent of incense wrapping around him like a soft shroud of calm.

He remained there for several hours, meditating on the long and complex prayers he had learned in his early days of his training in Tyr's service. The rhythmic cadences of the verses washed over him, requiring just enough concentration and focus to drive other thoughts from his mind, but not so much as to be taxing. When at last he finished the longest cycle he knew, he found he felt more at peace. He though back over his earlier concerns with his newfound calm.

He would serve Raewyn as long as she would have him. He would love her always, he knew, but beyond that, he must let the future take care of itself. With a wry grimace he found himself wishing he could put his more immediate concern to rest.

He still worried that his love for her would cause him to turn to her when he ought to turn elsewhere, and what the cost of such a lapse might be. This, at least, was something of which he felt he needed to speak with her; she needed to know. As always, the trouble was knowing how to speak of it. In the end, he was almost relieved when she pressed him to tell her what was bothering him, for she could see he was conflicted.

"You look troubled. Are you all right?"

Casavir looked awkward. "I... I have been struggling with some feelings as of late, and I need to speak with you, confess them to you." He looked away, agitation plain on his face. "I... am loyal to you. Do not doubt this." He paused, his look underscoring the urgency of his words. "But there are times when I find my duty comes second, and I do not wish such feelings to place you in jeopardy."

"Duty comes second?" She asked confused. "What is becoming your priority?"

The paladin spoke hastily, as though to reassure her. "I do not mean insult by this, you are more than capable." He drew a deep breath. "But I find myself turning to you, rather than to the task at hand. I see to your safety before attending to the matters that affect us all, as a group. I am worried others may suffer based on my decisions."

Raewyn spoke then, her own voice soft with wonder. "Are you saying you have feelings for me?"

He turned away, his face reddening. "I wish to...protect you, yes." He bit off the words with difficulty. After a heartbeat he added "It is difficult to follow you, there is much to admire. I find that your actions are inspiring, as a leader should be."

Raewyn smiled at that, but let him continue. His voice grew softer. "And your help in Old Owl Well and beyond has put certain matters in my heart and mind to rest. It is a debt, a quelling of doubt that I cannot repay except with service."

"I understand, Casavir." She touched his arm gently "Thank you for telling me."

"I did not wish to speak of it." he said stiffly, not meeting her eyes. His cheeks colored a little, but his voice softened then. "Still, telling you of it has settled my mind. Thank you."

"I trust your judgement, no matter the circumstances. And, if I'm being honest…." she stopped, unsure how to continue.

"My lady?"

"Just, I know what you mean. I...have a hard time risking...well, any of you really, but…." She took a deep breath, and then looked into his eyes. "I just know you won't fail me, Casavir. I trust you, completely. With my life...and more."

She fled then, the tangle of her emotions too much to reign in further. Behind her, Casavir stood watching her precipitous departure, his expression lost between hope and puzzlement.


	27. Chapter 27: Tholapsyx

Raewyn had taken to walking the courtyard in the evenings, checking in with the tenants there, chatting with Deekin, Edario, Jacoby, and some of the others. On occasion she would wander the closer farms for a while, or have a glass of wine at the Phoenix Tail. She never wanted the Keep itself to isolate her from those she had given her all to protect. It was something Casavir admired, as both of them had seen too much of remote nobility utterly disconnected from the people it was their duty to serve.

This evening was fine and clear, a cool breeze easing the heat of the day. Raewyn had stopped at the gate to watch the sun set over the farmlands surrounding the Keep. She had visited the newly completed temple earlier, and Ivarr had told her of a vision. She stood contemplating that vision when Casavir drew beside her.

"My lady. You look as though your thoughts were lost among the planes. What perplexes you?"

She smiled at him. "Good evening, Casavir. I'm not perplexed exactly…" She paused, uncertain. "Have you ever had a vision? I mean, in the temple."

"No, though some of the elders and priests have, on occasion. It is a rare thing, a vision from the gods. Why do you ask?"

"Well, Ivarr told me he has had a vision. Involving me, or us I suppose, and the King of Shadows."

"You do not seem distressed, so shall I assume it was a good omen of some kind?"

"I suppose so, though it is, no offense to Ivarr, frustratingly vague. He said I must go east as far as I could into the Sword Mountains, and then pray."

Casavir arched an elegant eyebrow, but let her continue.

"He said that he didn't see it, but he felt that there I would find a powerful weapon against the King of Shadows."

The paladin considered a moment. "We can certainly use any advantages that may come within our reach, my lady. But I see how this is frustrating. There are many things that must be done which are more clearly seen. It would be unfortunate to ignore this vision, but the time it would require to search the Sword Mountains…may be a luxury we do not have at present."

"I know. We need to gather allies, find the shadow priests, search the Mere…."

She shook her head. "We must go south along the coast to Highcliff first, but then we will turn inland. The Ironfist Clanhold is in the foothills of the Sword Mountains; perhaps they will be able to tell us more."

As it happened, their negotiations with the Ironfist Clan took them into the Sword Mountains anyway, as far east as the mighty summit of Mount Galardrym. There they were forced to seek out and eventually battle the fearsome fire giants that resided there, seeking the artifact that would allow Khelgar to claim leadership of the Ironfist Clan. Only then would the hardy, stubborn people of the mountains lend their strength to Raewyn's battle with the Shadow King.

They won out against the King of the fire giants, but Mount Galardrym had yet another challenge for them, one they met all unprepared. It was there they met the great red dragon, Tholapsyx. They stumbled into her lair, already worn and tired and seeking a safe place to camp. While none of them wished to take on the massive beast, once she had seen them, there was little they could to do dissuade her. Under her terrifying attack the companions were harder pressed than they had ever been. It was a brutal fight. They lost no one, but when it was done, and the great serpent fell with a shriek, their magic and healing elixirs had been spent just keeping them alive, if only barely. Though the fight was was over, what wounds they still suffered had to go untreated for the night at least, until those among them that had the ability to heal with magic were able to rest sufficiently to regain their healing power. Until then, Elanee had gone among them, offering simple slaves and dressings to any who needed it.

The companions sank to their rest, battered and tired. Grobnar, perhaps the least battered of them all, had managed to build a large fire, and was gathering what foodstuffs they had to fashion into dinner. Raewyn was about to settle to her own rest when she looked to Casavir, and saw him lower himself with difficulty onto a rock nearby, stifling a groan of pain as he did so.

Her own weariness momentarily forgotten, Raewyn crossed to him, worry furrowing her brow. She knew Casavir had doubtless spared none of his own considerable healing ability for himself, and that he also tended to hide his pain. If she could see that he was suffering, she feared it was serious. With their potions were gone and their magics depleted, an untreated injury could prove fatal before any of them had regained enough power to heal it. Raewyn was not going to allow the proud and stubborn paladin to risk sitting wounded all night. She could at least get him out of his armor and comfortable, and possibly do something to treat his injury in the conventional fashion. She knew he would object, but she was determined to help him whether he wanted her to or not.

"Let me help you, Casavir. It doesn't look like you are going to be able to get out of that armor by yourself. And you may have injuries that need attention." She approached him, her pack in her hand.

"My lady, I will not have you playing my squire. I will be well enough until the morning."

"Casavir, really. Of all the times to stand on formalities! You are hurt, and badly from the look of it. You are my companion and I… you are my friend. Let me help you!" She stopped, not sure where to start. "You might have to help me through it though," she added with a wry smile, surveying the myriad buckles and lacings that fastened his armor.

Recognizing from her tone that she would not be dissuaded, he relented with a scowl and guided her through the process, buckle by buckle. Since he could not raise his arm, she had to disassemble the armor almost piece by piece. He gasped and went pale when she finally pulled off the front and back plates, and she saw that the back plate had a jagged tear along the edge below the shoulder, and one of the torn edges had been bent inward, forcing itself past the padded under tunic and into his side, just below his shoulderblade. Blood streamed fresh and soaked the shirt beneath as she pulled the edge free.

"By the nine hells, Casavir, this is bad!" She cast aside the damaged backplate and knelt for a closer look. She was shaken by the extent of the damage, concern sharpening her words. "You'd have sat here like this all night, you stupid, stubborn idiot!" He opened his mouth to protest, but seeing the worry that furrowed her brow and the tears that sparkled on her lashes, he remained silent.

"Dammit, you're not made of stone! Stop acting like you are!" Her voice cracked painfully. "I'm sorry, but..."

She grabbed a cloth to slow the bleeding that followed the plate's removal. "Lie down here," she tossed down a blanket followed by her cloak, "where I can get to your side, carefully." She helped him into position, holding the cloth firmly to his side, moving slowly lest they tear open the wound further.

Once he was settled, she placed his hand over the cloth to hold it in place, quickly gathered the supplies she needed, and knelt beside him.

"Casavir, I need to cut this shirt off; I think it's ruined anyway."

He nodded. She took the cloth back, moved his hand away and leaned in to survey the damage. The wound was deep and jagged, following the curve of his rib. The jagged edge of his armor had penetrated between his ribs. I looked like it has just barely avoided piercing his lung, but seemed to have gone no further.

"Hells, Casavir, that damned jagged edge could have worked its way into your lung if you'd just sat here!" Her voice shook, and glancing up at her, the paladin saw her face was white, her fear evident. She took a deep breath and focused on what she needed to do. The immediate problem was that the fabric of his tunic had been driven into the wound along with the jagged edge of his armor. It would need to be removed before she could stitch the wound closed.

She slid a tiny blade out of her boot and made a few small cuts before returning it to its sheath. She grabbed the edges of his shirt and pulled, the linen ripping with a thready shriek. Even in her worry, she had to suppress the shiver of desire that flitted through her as she revealed his sculpted upper body.

"I finally get his shirt off...This is not at all how I imagined doing this" she muttered, unaware she spoke aloud.

Despite the pain in his side, Casavir raised an eyebrow. She had considered removing his clothing, or imagined ripping off his shirt in some other fashion? Her next words recalled his attention to the present, but with a tiny thrill he filed the information away for later consideration.

"I'm going to need to get this bit of linen out of the wound. I'll be as careful as I can but…."

"Do not worry about me. Do what you must."

Once again using the tip of her small knife, she caught the edge of the fabric embedded in the wound, and began to work it loose. Clots had begun to form over the linen, and blood welled afresh as she freed the fibers. After a tense quarter hour, she had the last of it out. They had no useful potions remaining, but Daeghun had taught her how to clean and bind a wound when magic failed. She rummaged in her pack and drew out a small flask in which she mixed equal parts of holy water and some of Khlegar's firewhisky.

"OK, here goes. Just breathe deep." Casavir nodded, and she poured the liquid over the wound.

Casavir knew it would burn, but even the dragon's fire had been nothing to the agony that seared through his side. Raewyn flushed the wound as thoroughly as she could, her heart twisting as she saw the paladin's face crumple and his knuckles go white, though he made no sound. He lay gasping when she was done. She stopped a moment, realizing her own hands were shaking, and she drew a few deep breaths of her own.

All that remained was to stitch it closed and bandage it. Struggling to maintain her composure, she worked quickly, her deft fingers gentle on his skin, and the sharp jabs of the needle minor irritants compared to what he'd undergone already. She spread a bit of fragrant salve over the sutures before placing a soft clean pad on the injury.

She needed him to sit up in order to wrap bandages around his chest to keep the dressing in place. The better part of her worry having subsided, she became intensely aware of Casavir's heat as she reached her arms around him to secure the dressing. Every time her fingers brushed his skin she felt as though she was touching sparks, like the crackling flashes that fly from blankets in the winter, only far more pleasant.

Casavir too, felt himself become dizzy at her nearness. When she leaned in close to pass the bandaging around his back, he could smell her hair as the soft strands brushed his chest. Every brush of her fingers on his skin sent fresh tremors of desire through him. His side throbbed dully, but he felt a querulous surge of arousal and he bit back a groan. By Tyr, the longing this woman could raise in him, even sore and exhausted as he was.

Once she'd passed the lengths of cloth around him a few times, she moved behind him to knot the length of linen. She reached around him with a muttered curse as one of the ends slipped free. As she did she saw a mark on his shoulder blade unlike any she had ever seen. She finished securing the bandage before she asked, her hands lingering on his back.

"Casavir, what is this mark; it almost looks like spattered paint…?"

"It is… from long ago" he mumbled reluctantly, distracted by her soft touch on his skin.

"But what made it?"

"Molten lead, my lady. Before I came to the temple, one of my father's retainers had…creative methods of discipline."

"My gods…." she whispered, her fingertips ghosting over the marks as if she could erase even the memory of pain. She could not imagine the agony such a thing must cause, and a flood of anger filled her, imagining Casavir as a young man suffering such cruelty.

Casavir shivered under her hands, desire rising in him like the tide, surging with her every touch. Driven by a sudden impulse, Raewyn leaned down and placed a gentle kiss over the scar. He gasped and turned to face her, pain lancing through his side at the sudden movement. He closed his eyes and sank back to the blanket, breathing heavily, from pain and something else.

A moment later his eyes opened and he looked up at her. Lying there, shirtless and exhausted, with her kneeling beside him, her eyes wide and full of emotions he could not name, he felt both vulnerable and curiously strong, the intimacy of the setting both terrifying and intoxicating. He wanted to bolt from her, and he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless, holding her close to his heart. He could force his limbs to do neither, so he remained there, searching her face, leaving the next moment up to her.

She stayed where she had been when he turned toward her, her lips remembering the silken warmth of Casavir's skin. A wild longing filled her; she wanted to lie down with him, kiss him, hold him, and she wanted just as badly to flee from him. She felt as though she teetered on a precipice, and part of her shouted that she could fly while the rest could already feel the jagged rocks below.

His eyes never left her face, his expression intense, but unreadable. Was it an answering desire she saw there, or fear? Her own uncertainty won out.

"I…I'm sorry, I didn't…I…." Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment and frustration. She moved to rise. "I should…."

Suddenly, Casavir couldn't lose her nearness. He caught her hands in one of his own. "My lady…stay?" He looked down, taken aback by his own boldness. He was playing with fire and he knew it. "It grows cold in the mountains…."

She nodded wordlessly, her heart in her throat. She settled herself against his uninjured side, butterflies dancing wildly within her. She felt as if she had six arms, and she didn't know where to put any of them. Casavir solved her confusion by tucking her next to his chest, putting his arm around her and drawing his heavy cloak over them both. She nestled into his shoulder, the steady thump of his heartbeat a reassuring murmur under her cheek.

The worry and the tension she had felt while tending to his injury caught up with her, and she choked back a sob. Casavir's arm tightened around her. "What is it, my lady?"

"I was…you were hurt…I don't know…I was so scared. I'm sorry if I hurt you…."

Her words were muddled, but Casavir understood. "Shhh, Raewyn, I will be fine. It's over, and I am grateful to you."

She sniffed loudly, her tears abating. "Thank you, Casavir. You always seem to understand when it's just too much. You have no idea how much I…." She stopped herself, realizing what she was about to stray into dangerous terrain. "I don't know what I'd do without you" she finished instead.

Casavir rumbled a quiet chuckle beneath her cheek. "I shall endeavor to see that you never have to find out, my lady." His tone was light, but he wondered at her stumble, at what she had been about to say. Pain and exhaustion had made him feel weak and vulnerable, and he longed to lay his heart open to her, yet his fear prevented him. Still, he savored her nearness, and he resolved to be grateful for such moments when they occurred, even if he did not dare to hope for more.

He would have been surprised to learn that she shared much the same giddy terror at their closeness. Neither expected to sleep for their muddled emotions, but the trials of the day and the shared warmth in the cold mountain night soon lulled both into a dreamless sleep.

Raewyn awoke slowly, drifting lazily up from sleep, finding even as she woke that she still felt as safe and sheltered as she had in her slumber. She couldn't remember where she was, only that she was snuggled up against something large and warm.

Her eyes flew open when she recalled that large warm something was Casavir, and that they were camped at the peak of Mt. Galardrym, having defeated the great red dragon. She remembered Casavir's injury, and that he had asked her to remain beside him once she'd bound his wound.

In the night, Casavir had turned to face her, cradling her close to his chest, one arm curled around her shoulders, his other hand laid possessively on her hip. She had burrowed herself into his embrace, one leg between his, and her head tucked under his chin. Fighting back the desire to turn their already intimate embrace even more intimate, she began to disentangle herself, but froze when she realized he was stirring. Her face flushed scarlet as his waking movements brought her thigh against him, making it clear his body, at least, shared a desire similar to her own.

At her sudden intake of breath, her bedmate gasped and they drew apart hastily, if awkwardly. Casavir grunted as his movements aggravated his injured side, as his muscles had grown tight and sore overnight. Raewyn's embarrassment subsided momentarily in the wake of her concern.

"Are you alright? The stitches didn't tear, did they?"

"I am well, my lady, only a bit stiff."

Raewyn colored at the accidental entendre, and after a moment, Casavir flushed and turned away, realizing what he had said.

"I…should be able to manage enough healing by now, my lady. But perhaps you should remove the stitches?"

"Yes, of course. Just sit still a moment, and I'll get the bandage off."

She slit the band holding the dressing in place, and surveyed the wound. It looked clean and had already begun to knit.

"I don't know if it was the holy water, the firewhiskey, or just you, Casavir, but this looks like it's already healing over. You shouldn't have to expend too much effort to heal it completely." Carefully, she cut the stitches and removed the threads, lest they become sealed into the wound when the paladin's healing closed it.

"There. Don't move too much before you get started, and hopefully you won't even have much of a scar."

"It would not matter, my lady. It is one scar I would wear proudly." He said, with a soft smile, taking her hand in his. "I thank you again for your care for me."

She stared at him a long moment as he sat there, sleepy and shirtless, holding her hand gently, his hair still mussed from sleep. It gave him an air of vulnerability she rarely saw in the paladin, and her heart swelled. She felt tears sting her eyes. She wanted so badly to tell him how she loved him, but the words wouldn't come.

She turned away as the sounds of her companions waking penetrated her awareness. "I…I'll see if there's any breakfast. You'll need to eat…."

Casavir watched her thoughtfully. His fears still clung to him, but their grip was loosening. He felt a wash of peace and calm come over him, and he promised himself he would speak his heart to her soon.

As Raewyn was handing Casavir a share of what few provisions they had to hand, a loud cry from Neeshka split the quiet mountain morning.

"Eeeeeee! I've died and gone to heaven!"

Khelgar's voice boomed out a moment later. "By Tyr's right buttock, I've never seen the like! Lass, come and get a look at this!"

Exchanging an amused smile with the paladin, Raewyn hurried over to see what the fuss was about. She came around the small outcropping that had concealed an adjacent area the night before and her own jaw dropped.

Before her lay a treasure trove the likes of which she had never conceived. Neeshka lay in the middle of the pile, giggling madly and making snow angels in the drifts of gold and gems. Khelgar was snatching up one item after another, examining them as fast as he could, exclaiming over their workmanship.

"These things…some of them are of Ironfist making! And others, I don't even know. They must have been here for centuries!"

Raewyn laughed as Grobar joined Neeshka, the piles of loot coming as high as his waist in places. If they could have swum in the heaps, Raewyn was sure they would have.

"We'll have to send a whole battalion of Graycloaks to haul all this back home!" she said. "At least I don't have to worry how I'm going to pay for all those renovations anymore. And Khelgar, I want you to send any Ironfist treasures to your clan."

The dwarf looked at her first in astonishment, then in silent gratitude.

"My lady…" came Sand's voice over the din of the others. "Not that I was not thrilled to see my life flash before my eyes in yet another harrowing brush with death for the sake of making our resident thief happy…" Reawyn bit back a giggle at his perpetually acerbic manner, for it was obvious even he was enjoying himself. "…but I think this may be the most important find." He gestured a large, squat, unprepossessing trunk shoved off to the side of the trove.

By now, Casavir had joined them, and even he was looking at the hoard with no small astonishment. At the moon elf's words, he nodded. "I sense great power in that chest, my lady. Whatever lies within may be what Ivarr spoke of."

With a sudden sense of trepidation, Raewyn crossed to the chest, seeing no marks or decorations. She glanced at Neeshka, who extracted herself from the hoard and came over and to inspect the chest before shaking her head.

"It's the ugliest hunk of junk I've ever laid eyes on, but it isn't trapped, or even locked as far as I can see. I think it's safe enough, unless you're counting damage to your décor."

Raewyn knelt before the chest and braced the heels of her hands at the edge of the lid. After a moment of resistance, it opened with a rusty screech and belched forth a cloud of musty air. Coughing, she peered inside, barely noticing her companions' sudden silence.

At first glance, she thought the chest empty, then a long narrow shape distinguished itself from the dusty bottom. Raewyn reached in and drew out a large bundle wrapped in decaying cloth, which disintegrated into dust and tattered scraps between her fingers as she moved to unwrap it.

Her brown furrowed as she beheld what seemed to be an ancient blade, both itself and its scabbard grimed and rusted to uselessness. But as she looked, the filth and corrosion seemed to fade before her eyes, and the details on the scabbard, pommel, and crossguard emerged as if rising up from under muddy water.

The weapon in her hands sang with magic, sending a deep thrum of power through her that seemed flow down through her feet and into the very heart of the mountain. She looked more closely at the ornate crossguard, seeing words inscribed there. It took a moment, but suddenly she saw the inscription clearly. It read "Only the righteous shall awaken my flame."

She stood, holding the weapon before her thoughtfully. She looked around at each of her companions before speaking.

"Ivarr foresaw that in these hills I would find a weapon that would aid me in the battle with the King of Shadows." She looked down at the blade she held. "But if Zhjaeve is correct, and the Silver Sword of Gith is reforged, I will bear that blade in the coming battle. It is on me then, that this blade is not meant for my hand…" she turned to the man beside her, and held the sword out to him. "...it is meant for yours, Casavir."

He stared at her, looking like a queen from the old tales, the sword held out to him across her palms. His gaze shifted then to the weapon she offered him. It took a moment, as it had for her, to read the tangled script, but when he did his face paled, and his voice, when he spoke came out in a whisper.

"It is a Holy Avenger. I did not know any of these blades still existed." He looked at her briefly before returning his awed gaze to the Avenger, still not touching it. "I…I am honored my lady, but…I am not worthy of such a blade."

"There is none more worthy, Casavir. Take it; I know it was meant for you to bear."

He knelt before her, still seeing her as a queen his queen, and he felt tears sparkling in his eyes. "You cannot know the honor you do me, my lady…"

"No greater than the honor you have always done me, Casavir of Tyr."

Slowly he reached his hands to the Avenger, as though it might burn him. What he feared was far worse than burning. He feared it would do nothing, that its flame would not awaken, shaming him, damning him once and for all as fallen. With a final look at Raewyn's confident smile, he took the blade. As his hands closed around scabbard and hilt, a golden glow began to emanate from it. Raewyn closed her hands over Casavir's for a moment, smiling at his awestruck gaze. He drew the blade then, and a white-gold light burst forth from the sword, enveloping first Casavir, then Raewyn, then, so it seemed, the entire mountaintop.

After a blinding moment, the light withdrew into the sword, lingering as a writhing shimmer of light that bathed the blade in radiance. He returned it to its now gleaming scabbard. She knelt too, meeting his eyes, her hands on his shoulders.

"You awakened the flame of the Holy Avenger, Casavir. The blade has judged you righteous. Never did I doubt for a moment that it would. Never have I doubted you." She leaned forward and kissed his brow.

The paladin looked at her, words slipping from his grasp like wisps of smoke. At last he covered one of her hands with his own, and bowed his head, letting his silence speak for him.

The peace and clam he'd felt earlier remained, and he considered this with some surprise. Just this morning he had surrendered to his emotions, sworn to himself that soon, very soon, he would open his heart to the woman whom he could no longer deny he loved with his whole being. And yet the sword had found him worthy.

That Raewyn had banished the ghosts of his past and the regrets they had tormented him he had long known. But perhaps he could hope for more than merely setting his past to rest. Perhaps there was hope for the future, hope for more than merely serving, fighting, and dying with beside her. Perhaps there was hope for a life at her side?

* * *

A.N.: Yes, I know you're only supposed to get the Holy Avenger Quest if the PC is a paladin. I have tried not to be too specific about Raewyn's class, but I really wanted to include this. I love Casavir too much not to give him the best weapon in the game, not to mention the vote of confidence!


	28. Chapter 28: Midnight Summons

The second night after their return to the Keep from the mountains of Galhardym, Casavir woke to the soft shuffle of bare feet entering his chamber. On the verge of springing from his bed, knife in hand, he sensed it was Raewyn, and that she was troubled and afraid. Unsure how to react, he remained still. If she had wanted him awake she would have awakened him. She approached the bed and paused, hesitant. Then she quietly slipped in beside him, wordlessly curling herself against his side, her cold hands tentatively coming to rest over his heart. He waited a moment, uncertain what to do or expect, still feigning sleep. When she did nothing else, he wrapped his arm around her, her nearness making his breath catch. She snuggled even closer to him and was soon deeply asleep.

Puzzled, deeply aroused, and yet oddly pleased that she sought him for comfort like this, he remained awake holding her, watching over her until the first light of predawn let him study her features. As the light grew, she stirred, slipping out as quietly as she came, never seeming to want to wake him. He let her depart thinking him still asleep, but he remained awake pondering her actions until the dawn bell.

Raewyn continued to appear in his chamber more often than not over the next weeks, though she still spoke not a word about it, either while there, or when they spoke during the day. Casavir found it deeply gratifying and just as deeply frustrating. To be a source of comfort for her, to provide her with a safe haven for her dreams, was an honor he cherished, as much as he cherished the warmth of her slender form in his arms. He could see that her step was lighter and her eyes brighter on days when she had rested with him, but when she did not appear, her eyes the next day bore a haunted look, as though she spent her solitary nights wrestling with demons and nightmares.

At the same time, her continued silence sat ill with him. He was happy to be there for her, but it seemed it would be better for her if she spoke of it openly. And her presence, sweet as it was, had done nothing to cool his own longing for her; her nearness was sometimes pure torment to him. For all his resolve on Galardrym, he had not found the words, nor the right time to speak openly to her of what was in his heart. Still, he knew the weight she carried, and if this was how he could help her bear it, he was content. Perhaps later, if they both lived after the threat of the King of Shadows had been met, he might press her on it. Then again, he chided himself, she might no longer have need of comfort. She might no longer have need of him….

She had appeared again this night to burrow in beside him. He often lay awake as long as she was there, keeping a sort of vigil over her dreams. But this night, he had fallen asleep with her back tucked warmly against his chest, his arms encircling her, and his face buried in her fragrant hair. He woke at a sudden pounding on his door.

"Sir Casavir! You are needed at the gate, Kana is asking for you!"

"Very well. I shall be there presently."

It seemed the pretense of her visits being clandestine had been shattered. She tensed, and he ran a soothing hand over her shoulder, even though he was loathe to leave her.

"Shhh, my lady. Please, stay if you wish. The corridors will be cold at this hour. If you are needed, I will make certain to be the one to fetch you. Your secret is safe, my lady."

She nodded, relaxing slightly, but did not answer. He pressed a tender kiss on her temple, and climbed out from beneath the covers, taking care not to let the cold air reach her. He tossed a leather doublet and breeches on over his linen shirt, and gathered his boots and belt. Before leaving, he turned and ran the back of his fingers down her cheek. She reached out to clasp his hand in hers, and smiled sleepily. He dropped another kiss on her hair, and turned to go.

Raewyn was not needed after all, as Kana's summons heralded no emergency; only the arrival of one of Callum's men, bringing with them a squad of his Graycloaks from the Well. The leader, a man named Finn, told Casavir that since Old Owl Well had come fully under Neverwinter's control, and the orc tribes had begun to disperse, Callum had sent what troops he could now spare to help Raewyn in her efforts at the Keep. A few of the men were those he had fought with at the Well, and Casavir was pleased to see his former companions. He arranged with Kana to billet the newcomers, and promised to share a meal with them the next day. In less than an hour, Casavir was on his way back to his quarters, expecting that Raewyn would be gone, and worrying how this tacit acknowledgment of her presence would affect things between them.

He entered and was pleasantly surprised to see Raewyn still there, snuggled under his blankets. She sat up when she heard him, and smiled shyly. He sat on the bed to remove his boots, not sure where to begin, but knowing something should be said.

"That was Finn, from Old Owl Well. One of Callum's lieutenants, do you remember him?"

"Yes, I quite liked him, though his jokes were awful." Casavir chuckled softly at that. "But what is he doing here?"

"Callum sent him with a squadron of his men to aid you."

Raewyn looked up sharply, her eyes wide with gratitude. Casavir smiled to himself; she never failed to be surprised when someone new came to her cause. That her gratitude to those who followed her was so genuine and unaffected had a lot to do with the loyalty she engendered. Everyone who aided her knew their presence was valued, knew they were valued. Returning his thoughts to the present, he continued.

"It seems the Well has been peaceful enough that he no longer needed as many blades. Callum sent a letter to you directly; Finn has it. And he is most anxious to deliver it to you." The last came out a with a dry twisting of his lips, and it was Raewyn's turn to chuckle.

"Oh, wonderful! Perhaps he'll have some new orcish limericks with which to win my heart!"

They fell silent then, and Casavir drew one knee up onto the bed, turning to face her.

"My lady, I know you have come here for some nights now, and…."

"I'm sorry, Casavir." she interrupted him. "It wasn't very considerate of me to just barge in here and...help myself. I….."

He captured her fidgeting hands in his own.

"You are always welcome, my lady. I am honored that you would seek...that you find me…." he fumbled, finishing lamely. "I am happy to be of service."

"It's more than service, Casavir. I...I hope that my coming here is not a comfort only to me. I mean, that it is not a burden to you." She wanted to say so much more, but the words would not come. "If you want me to stop…."

"No, my lady…." he paused, not sure how much to say or how to say it. How could he tell her that he hoped she would come to him, be with him, every night, always, as long as he lived? That he could not imagine anything more precious to him than holding her? How could he tell her his only fear was that he might offend her with the less honorable longings her presence stirred in him? That he dared to hope, even as he tried not to, that one day she would not come to him only to sleep?

"My lady, I cherish your company, day or night."

"It's still early, then…"

"Aye, my lady."

He stripped off his leathers and crawled in beside her, giving a shivering breath as her delicious warmth stole over him. He cradled her in the crook of his arm, her head on his chest. She gave a contented sigh, her hand idly playing over his chest. It was different now, he realized. He knew, she knew he knew, and that awareness lay between them, taught as a bowstring. It was one thing to lie awake and hold her when they were both exhausted, as they had on Galardrym. Or when it was a sort of secret, though Casavir had always been acutely aware of her every curve where she pressed against him. But now that awareness was sharpened into razor acuity, almost painful in its detail and clarity. She shifted then, her thigh sliding over his, her leg coming to rest on top of his, and he felt himself harden with terrifying suddenness. His breath caught, and her head came up as she looked at him, concerned.

"I'm sorry, is that uncomfortable?" she asked. In the dim light of the room, he couldn't be sure, but he thought there might be a glint of mischief in her eyes. Did she know what she was doing to him? To his horror, and entirely against his will, he suddenly found himself thinking of the night at the Flagon when he had almost kissed her, and the evening in the ruined church when he had. He groaned.

"Are you alright?"

"My lady, I...I just recalled something I needed to discuss with...with Kana. Please, stay here and warm, I insist."

He scrambled out of the bed, and fumbled into his leathers once more. He knew his explanation was, to put it mildly, inane, but he had to get away from Raewyn quickly, lest all his worst fears and deepest desires escape his control.


	29. Chapter 29: Death in the Air

A.N.: If you've been with me this long, thank you. And your patience will be rewarded. The story is by no means over, but I think, perhaps, FINALLY, our reluctant paramours will finally figure it out. I struggled with drawing the courtship out this long - I've read some wonderful stories where they get together much sooner - but I wanted to stay true to canon, and I think there are reasons it takes them this long. Again, my thanks for reading, and don't go away - there is a LOT more story to come! (BTW, "M" rating begins here!)

* * *

In the last weeks, Casavir had become accustomed to her presence in his chambers most nights, and at his side as they camped on the trail as well. To his surprise and no small frustration, she continued her appearances even after the interruption that had ended the pretense of secrecy.

Now, with the blade reforged at last and as many allies as could be gathered standing at the ready, the time drew near to meet Garius' army. They had done all they could to slow the approach of Shadow King's undead horde. The Keeps defenders had spent the day destroying the very bridges Raewyn had built, hoping to buy precious time. Bishop's scouting had proved invaluable, and between his efforts and those of Raewyn's foster father, Daeghun, they had managed to pinpoint the locations where they could most severely hamper Garius' progress. But even slowed, the dark army's approach was inexorable. It was only a matter of time before they reached the Keep itself, and they would face their largest battle yet.

The entire Keep was rife with tension, It seemed the very stones themselves held their breath. With the battle looming, Casavir needed to speak to Raewyn; he could wait no longer. He considered simply speaking with her when she appeared in his chamber. But she might not come, especially considering the awkwardness of having the Keep crowded with their allies. He decided he could not leave it to chance. He waited until she had given orders for the men to be fed and the wounded treated, speaking quietly to several of them as she went, and sent Kana on her way.

"My Lady, forgive me. But there is little time remaining before the next battle, and I was wondering if I might speak with you. There has been something troubling me of late."

His lapsing into the stiff formality she had not heard from him in weeks told her how troubled he really was. She knew by now that his formality was not coldness, but rather the mask with which he covered his uncertainty. At present, he appeared to be truly nervous. She had seen the paladin awkward, confused, or uncomfortable many times, but nervous? She was worried about him, and was quick to reassure him.

"Of course, Casavir. You know you can always talk to me about anything that's bothering you. What is it?"

"Actually, my lady, I was wondering if we might speak somewhere privately, without interruptions. Perhaps upon the castle walls for a time? We could observe the troops yet there is little chance of us being disturbed."

"That sounds peaceful, and I think we could both stand a bit of peace just now. Lead the way, then." She smiled encouragingly, more puzzled than before about what was bothering him. As they headed into the Keep, she saw Bishop lurking at the edge of the courtyard. Raewyn turned to Casavir. "Give me a moment?"

His gaze flickered to the ranger, and he nodded.

She approached Bishop and saw his face go from surprise to uncertainty before assuming his usual haughty indifference.

"Yeah, princess? Finally decided you need a real man to warm your bed?"

Raewyn bit back her sharp retort as she noticed something in his voice, something in his eyes. She wondered, not for the first time, if his feelings for her ran deeper than the coarse innuendo seemed to indicate. She looked at him for a long moment, then gave him a small smile.

"If I did, you would definitely be on my list," she returned his teasing tone, and then grew serious. "You did really good work today, Bishop. Thank you." Surprise returned, softening his habitual sneer. "And I don't think we would have managed today without the maps you scouted for us. I'm truly grateful."

"As she spoke, one of the sergeants from Callum's detachment stopped, hearing Raewyn's comment, and turned to Bishop. "That was you, sir? That's some of the best scout work I've seen. Pleased to have you on our side." The man offered his hand, and the ranger froze, bewildered, before accepting the man's handshake. The sergeant turned to Raewyn with a jaunty salute, and continued on his way.

They watched him a moment before Raewyn turned back to Bishop. Smiling she put her hand on his shoulder. "I'm glad you stayed on, Bishop, I really am. Now get some rest, my friend." She turned to go, for once leaving the flustered ranger without a snarky comeback.

Bishop looked to where Casavir stood waiting. He knew the other man hadn't heard the exchange, but the paladin met his eyes and gave him an approving nod. Bishop did not return it, but turned to stalk off into the darkness.

Raewyn reached her waiting companion, and gave him a smile.

"After you, my lady?"

With that, they entered the Keep, each stopping to stow their weapons and armor. Then together they climbed the stairs to the top of the battlements in silence. Casavir gestured for her to precede him through the arched door leading onto the narrow walk that topped the outer wall of the Keep.

They stood quietly together for a few minutes, watching as the rising moon cast a silver glow on the surrounding farmlands. The night was quiet save for the calls of nightbirds, and a few occasional calls between the guards on watch. In spite of herself, Raewyn felt the peace of the moonlit night steal over her. She turned to her companion.

"What is it that troubles you Casavir?"

"There is death in the air this night."

"Yes, I sense it too. But you, at least, seem calm in spite of it."

He shrugged, suddenly seeming almost confident.

"I am here with you; there is little that could touch me in your presence."

She smiled at him then, touched as always by the depth of his devotion to her, even as his continued refusal to let her any closer to him frustrated her. Beside her, he drew in a deep breath, as though gathering his resolve.

"There is something I must tell you before this battle is joined. I wish to thank you, for all that you have done for me. You have made me stronger, restored my faith by making me see the good in feeling something for another. I do not want to repeat the mistakes of the past. The feelings which have tormented me, my feelings for Ophala, my blind obedience to Neverwinter instead of its people; those are in the past."

"I am glad to hear you say it. It has pained me to see you haunted by these things."

"You have freed me from my past, Raewyn. And although it is dark, you shine brightly to me."

She smiled at him, somewhat puzzled, but pleased by his words. "And you to me, Casavir. There is none other I would have by my side, this night or any other."

"There is nothing that can stand against us when we are together, my lady, in this life or the next." His voice had grown urgent, but then steadied and his next words were spoken with determination. "I shall follow you. My sword..." he paused, gathering one last reserve of courage "...and my heart, are yours."

Her eyes widened, and she studied him for a long moment. In his formal and cautious way, had Casavir just told her he loved her? She felt warmth rise like a bubble inside her, making her feel light and giddy, in spite of the trials ahead. She smiled broadly, but her reply was heartfelt.

"I accept both, Casavir. And I shall stand beside you as well, tomorrow, and always."

"Then nothing in the Realms can hope to defeat us."

"Come then, my paladin. Come and let us rest, truly rest, and take comfort in each other."

"Of course. I have followed you this far." To her amazement, his formality now held a teasing mischief. "Lead on, my lady."

With a happy smile she took his hand and led him down to her quarters. When they entered her chamber though, an awkwardness settled over them. Unwilling to surrender the closeness they shared a moment ago, she pulled him to her and laid her head on his chest. She began to sway slowly, as though to a gentle tune. He wrapped her in his arms and joined in her softly lilting movements. They danced slowly for a while as the sounds of the keep settled into silence. They drifted to a stop after a while, and she looked up at him.

She darted up to catch him in a kiss, soft and gentle, but persistent. Casavir broke off the kiss after a moment, unnerved by the sudden wave of raw need for her that swept through him.

"My heart is yours, never doubt it. But I would not dishonor you, my lady. We must not…."

"Must not what? Love each other? Touch each other? Your touch could never dishonor me, Casavir. Please…"

"My lady, you have shown me so much, and eased my heart more than I can express. You know that I am yours, but still, some of what I feel for you is…" he looked distinctly uncomfortable. "...hungry, it is not pure…I cannot…must not allow it to touch you. I wish to protect you...even from myself…."

The lilting joy that had carried her to her room evaporated. Yes, Casavir had finally allowed himself to admit that he loved her, but he still could not accept everything that love meant. He still had not come to grips with the passion that sang in him, the passion she could sense in his every glance, could feel in his every touch.

"No, Casavir! Dammit, don't you dare try to love me by half measures! I deserve more from you, and so do you for all of that! Don't you dare try to 'protect me' from your passions!"

He drew back, startled by her sudden vehemence.

"You can't just sort out all the things in yourself or in life that you don't like, or that inconvenience you, or that intimidate you and choose to get rid of them. And you can't outrun them either, just like you can't lose yourself in some suicide mission because it's 'simple.' You speak to me of Old Owl Well? You would have dashed yourself to pieces against those orcs had others not seen more worth in you than you did and chosen to fight beside you. That's what you wanted, wasn't it? You wanted to die in some pigheaded, honor-bound blaze of glory."

"You were so afraid—yes, afraid—of losing control, of losing yourself even for a moment, you became the very thing you feared, _Katalmach_!"

Casavir winced to hear the name on her lips, but she continued on. "And maybe now you've given up on your quest for self-destruction, and let go your regrets, but you're still terrified of the passion within you. You're still trying to make everything all nice and neat and black and white."

Her voice grew louder as her frustration grew.

"Well, life is never nice and neat, Casavir, and it's never black and white, not even for a paladin! It's messy and confusing and hard, and that's the only reason it's worth a damn, because it's also complex and surprising and amazing. And you are not an automaton. You are a human being, a person with both passions and flaws. You are a warrior without equal, but you are more than the warrior, more than a paladin; you are a man. And flaws and all, you are the finest man I have ever known." her voice cracked and tears lined her cheeks. "But what now, will you just carve away half of who you are? Carve away half the man I've come to…." The word 'love' was on her lips but she stopped short of it.

"You keep trying to tear away your humanity and you'll leave a gaping hole down the middle, leave yourself half a man! Just a suit of armor with nothing underneath!"

She was yelling now, her voice broken by gulping sobs, and she dashed away tears as she went on. "And you tell yourself you're doing this for me? Well, no thank you, Casavir! If I wanted a fighting machine without a heart, I've already got one in the basement!"

She turned her back and struggled to take a deep breath. Casavir stood wordless, his eyes downcast. He had no idea how to answer her. It had seemed so simple once. He was bound to honor and duty, and nothing else should get in the way. He had let his baser passions blind him once before and vowed never to do so again. Hadn't he? He knew well her horror of the magically animated golem, and it had never occurred to him that by seeking to suppress his emotions, his passion, he might indeed seem that way. He recalled Shandra's word to him so long ago. _"You are a paladin, and a good one. And you are a very passionate man...But you have this idea that you can't be both, so you're always at war with yourself over it. But Casavir, all you're gonna do is kill yourself that way."_

He had gone to the Well to seek oblivion in battle, and tried to drown out the memory of his pain and heartbreak in a tide of violence, and failed. But that was then. He knew he had found purpose in life at her side, then a home, and finally, perhaps, a home for his heart. She had healed him more than he ever thought possible. He meant what he'd said just now, on the battlements. He had finally accepted his love for her, made peace, as she had said, between his duty and his love.

Yet he still held back, unable to embrace his desire. He remained afraid of the reckless tide of passion that she stirred in him, fearful that he would drown in it, drown in her. And part of him wanted just that, even as he feared he would find only the same oblivion he had once sought in battle. He glanced up at her.

She turned back to him, her arms wrapped tight around her middle as though she were in pain, and perhaps she was. Tears were still spilling from her eyes, but her voice was softer.

"Of all those who follow me—for whatever reasons I cannot fathom—and of all those who have fought beside me, I have chosen you, over and over, and not just when the fighting begins. It is you I want with me, in battle and…." she drew another steadying breath "and always. It is you I want by my side, you that I choose as champion, as companion, as...so much more. Not a machine, not an emotionless fighting thing. I want you, the man, the whole man."

She stepped closer to her to him, forcing him to meet her eyes. Her voice was quiet now, rough with tears.

"Don't you know that I need you Casavir? I didn't accept your heart just now to do you a favor, or guarantee your sword. I need you. Not me the Captain, but just me, the woman. I need the unwavering Casavir and the Casavir who doubts, the Casavir who stands fearless and the Casavir who fears failure above all. I need the Casavir who fights…" she placed her hand along his cheek and felt wetness beneath her palm. "…and the Casavir who loves. I need the honorable Casavir…" her voice dropped lower, "...and I need the Casavir that has looked at me with lust in his eyes almost since we met."

He looked down, his face flushing. "I had hoped to have hidden such things from you, my lady. I am sorry….."

"Don't you dare apologize!" she softened her words with a smile. "I have seen your desire from the start, my _Katalmach_. Do you not recall my telling you I had sensed the passion in you? Surely you know I have shared it?"

Her arms stole around his neck, her hands tangling in his hair, her voice low and sultry as she spoke. "Don't you recall the day I came upon you at the lake? The sight of you then haunts my dreams to this day, Casavir."

She leaned in close, her breath fluttering over his ear, sending a shiver of longing through him. "Do you remember our dance at the Flagon? I almost went mad with wanting you that night, as I have every night since."

Her voice, low and teasing, inflamed him as much as her words. She drew back just enough to meet his eyes again.

"I love you, Casavir of Tyr, and I want you. All of you."

"I do not know why you seem to wish my weaknesses as much as my strengths, but I am yours, my lady, sword, and heart, and...all the rest of me."

"Casavir, your weaknesses are finer than most men's strengths. You know me in ways no one ever has. You have held my life and my soul in your very hands, and returned them to me stronger and purer than before. There will never be anyone else for me. Love me Casavir, let me share your passion. Please, just love me. And let me love you."

He seemed to weigh something inside himself then, before finally choosing to let go. With a soft growl that sent shockwaves all the way to her toes, he surrendered wholly to his passion for the woman before him. He drew her to him and claimed her mouth with all the hunger he had carried for her for so long. His tongue demanded entrance, and she complied with a whimper, desire arcing through her.

The arm around her waist moved to bring her closer to him, and she gasped as her body came into full contact with his tall frame. He slid his other hand behind her head, fingers tangling in her silken hair, deepening their kiss. She ran her hands up his sculpted arms, skimming his shoulders before kneading the nape of his neck once more.

He broke the kiss for a moment, and she gazed up at him, dazed. The sight of her flushed cheeks and kiss-reddened lips sent his need for her spiraling even higher. She wrapped her leg around his, pulling herself even closer to him, bringing her hips against his erect length. She moaned and ground her hips against him, drawing an answering groan from Casavir. Her lips returned to his, raining soft feather kisses on his mouth, his cheeks.

Sweeping her off her feet, he crossed the room in a few quick strides, and laid her upon the bed. She lay looking up at him, her eyes hooded with passion and her breath coming fast. Slowly, her eyes never leaving his, she drew her linen tunic over her head, revealing finely sculpted shoulders, the creamy luxury of her breasts, the slender contours of her waist. In another moment, she had slid her soft leather trews down her legs, letting them pool on the floor beside the bed. She lay back and raised her arms to the man before her.

He stared, frozen by the sight of her, revealed before him in the golden glow of candlelight, love and longing in her eyes. Stripping off his own loose linen tunic, he lowered himself beside her, his hands skimming over her shoulder and down her side. She shivered beneath his touch.

With a sigh, she let her own hands roam the broad expanse of his chest, spanning the width of him. Even without the bulky plate he wore, his shoulders were magnificent. She leaned forward, planting kisses on his shoulder, nipping lightly between kisses.

"Gods, Lady!" he gasped.

"My name is Raewyn, Casavir, and I have waited so long to hear you say it in just that way…." She repeated the action, nipping harder this time.

"Raewyn!' Her name escaping his lips felt like a caress, and she shivered again. Having surrendered to his passion, he gave himself over to her utterly. "Raewyn, my beloved..."

He brought her mouth to his and kissed her again, deeply, until her head spun and they broke apart gulping for air. He kissed her eyes, her cheeks, and moved down to her neck, her collarbones, kissing and licking over every counter, savoring the sweetness of her skin. He cupped one of her breasts in his hand, his thumb brushing over the nipple making her writhe beneath him.

"You are so beautiful, my beloved. You are as a goddess before me; I have longed to worship you."

He continued at a leisurely pace, kissing and caressing every inch of her, whispering sweet nothings, and setting her entire body aflame until she could stand no more. She reached for him. With a soft smile, he laid her back down, gentling her with touches and kisses.

"My lady, I have not completed my devotions" he murmured with mischief in his eyes.

"Gods, Casavir…." she panted, dizzy with the passion he was stirring in her.

But he was unmoved by her plea, and explored down her belly, worshipping her with his hands, his mouth, his eyes. He flicked his tongue into her navel and scattered sucking kisses on her hipbones. From there, he kissed his way down her thighs, lifting each leg in turn to ghost his lips over her calves before tracing his way back up the insides of her thighs, praising her beauty, the softness of her skin, whispering his love for her.

Raewyn's back arched as his mouth covered the apex of her thighs, carrying her on ever spiraling waves of pleasure. "Casavir!" His name burst from her lips as she shattered on a cresting wave that left her boneless and shuddering beneath him.

He moved back up to lie beside her, holding her as her shivers eased. As her mind cleared, she realized he intended to be satisfied with her pleasure alone, and decided she was not about to let him get away with it. After taking another moment to catch her breath, she rose up and knelt beside him him.

"Off. Now." He stared at her in surprise. "My lady…" he began. She silenced him with a finger to his lips.

"Ah-ah" she admonished him. "I have not yet begun my devotions…"

He opened his mouth and then closed it again, finding no suitable reply. She raised an eyebrow at his hesitation. The moment he slid his trews past his feet, she gave his shoulders a gentle shove, urging him back down on the bed, and quickly maneuvering herself to kneel between his calves.

Casavir had never felt as vulnerable as he did now, lying before her, even in the soft candlelight. He felt his face flush, knowing full well that his body revealed his desire for her. He felt his soul was exposed to her gaze along with the rest of him, and he wanted to hide, to look away from her, but he could not, for she held his eyes with her own burning gaze.

After a long moment, she allowed her eyes to travel down her lover's body, devouring his long, lean, sculpted frame. She remembered the day she had accidentally come upon him at the river.

"You are magnificent, my _Katalmach_." she murmured, meeting his eyes again. He flushed at the intimate inflection she gave his former title. She leaned over him, and met his lips in a searing kiss, her hands roaming his flesh, exploring with her touch what her eyes had mapped a moment ago. She broke the kiss at last, and with agonizing slowness and deliberateness, she kissed her way down his body, tonguing and nipping, brushing her cheek against him like a cat. His eyes squeezed shut as her hair trailed over his skin behind her kisses, the delicate touch a dizzying contrast to the searing heat of her mouth. The swirl of sensations she was creating had him shivering, writhing, his hands fisting in the sheets.

When she came to his hips, she shifted her body downward, settling between his knees, opening his legs further. With a final swirling lick at his right hipbone, she sat back for a moment until his eyes opened and returned to hers. Holding his midnight gaze with her own, she braced her hands on his thighs and lowered herself to run her tongue in a long sweep from the base of his rock-hard length to the weeping tip.

"Raewyn!" her name exploded from him in a harsh gasp as his hips bucked. "My lady…."

She merely grinned, and repeated the action, never releasing his eyes. With lips and tongue she caressed and explored him, swirling over his shaft, taking the soft weight behind it gently into her mouth. She let the tip of her tongue flicker across the taut space behind, making him gasp louder, now rendered inarticulate. She moved to the tip then, licking him clean of the salty slickness that covered him. Again her tongue flickered like a flame over every vein and ridge before she finally enveloped him in her mouth.

Never had he experienced anything like the slick and searing velvet that surrounded him. Her eyes, boring into his as she took him in such an intimate caress stripped him of all defenses.

She wrapped her hand around the base of him, and pulled back, her cheeks hollowing in delicious suction, then pushed back down, her tongue swirling against the sensitive underside of his length. He knew he could not possibly withstand such stimulation for long, and he feared he would finish, defiling her mouth...

"My lady…." he croaked. "You mustn't...please...I can't...hold back…."

"Mmmmm, I know." The vibrations of her silky murmur shot through him. He closed his eyes and his head fell back.

"No, love…I...oh, gods...won't be able…to stop…."

"I don't want you to." How she could answer him without stopping the maddeningly exquisite motion of her mouth he didn't know, but he had to make her understand.

"But….ah! my lady…"

"Let go, love. I've got you."

His breath grew even more ragged, and his hips and legs tensed almost painfully, unnoticed in the roaring pleasure that filled him. Raewyn kept one hand wrapped around him, and the other arm she slid up his stomach, holding him in a half embrace, as though she intended to hold him together as he flew apart.

And then he could hold back no longer. His hands flew to her hair, his back arched and his heels dug into the mattress as the world exploded around him. Sweet fire ran like molten honey from her mouth through every inch of him and back out as he spilled himself down her throat, his entire body bucking madly. She held fast, wrapped around him, riding out his release with him, never letting go.

She held him in her mouth as the spendings of his release subsided and the crest of his climax receded, her arm still wrapped around his torso. His heartbeat settled, his labored breathing slowed, and his muscles relaxed.

Gently Raewyn released him, and with a last soft kiss, she crawled up his body into his arms. He turned to her, gathering her close to his chest. He was shaking with the aftershocks that shivered through his body, with emotion, with vulnerability. His very soul felt raw, exposed, and yet he'd never felt stronger, more whole.

"I love you, Casavir," she whispered.

"My lady." He had tears on his cheeks, and his voice, hoarse with emotion, broke on the words. "My Raewyn, my beloved."

"Always yours, my _Katalmach_," she murmured sleepily.

They dozed lightly for a while then, wrapped together. But before more than an hour had passed, Casavir stirred, pulling the woman in his arms closer, nuzzling her hair. She stirred against him and he sought her mouth, claiming her lips in a demanding kiss.

Raewyn returned it eagerly, her arms stealing around him, her legs tangling with his, pulling him to her.

"Casavir…." she sighed against his lips.

He rose over her, his hands skimming her sides, curving over her hips to guide her legs around him, never breaking his kiss until he held himself poised at her entrance. He met her eyes then.

"My lady…." It was a question, it was a vow.

"Yes, Casavir." It was an answer, and an answering vow.

Another long heartbeat he gazed into her eyes, drinking in the love and devotion he saw there. She pulled him back down into a kiss, and as he claimed her mouth, he claimed her body. In a single heart-stopping motion, he seated himself within her until their hips collided. Tears pricked his eyes as he felt himself joined with her fully, at last, his home, his love, his heart.

Gathering his breath, he met her eyes, seeing the same sense of awe reflected there. Slowly he withdrew, only to return again. His movements were slow, profound, reverent, until the heat between them drove them both forward. He moved faster, more sure, and she rose to meet him, her hips seeking his with every stroke. Together they surged as waves of passion rose higher, engulfing them both.

Casavir clutched her to him, wanting to get closer, never close enough, though he buried himself in her to the hilt. She urged him on, her gasping cries echoing softly in his ear. She had stunned him before, and her responsiveness and her passion enflamed him now. What had he done to deserve this woman?

Raewyn shook beneath him as her release took her over the edge, her fingers clutching his shoulders, her nails leaving welts. He felt her powerful muscles clenching around him, and he himself followed her into ecstasy, losing himself within her as heat and light burst through him.

Shuddering, gasping, wholly spent, Casavir collapsed beside her, gathering her once more into his arms. They slept deeply then, safe in the haven they'd built between them.


	30. Chapter 30: The Siege Begins

The candles had scarcely begun to gutter in their holders when a frantic pounding at her chamber door woke them both.

"Knight-Captain! You are needed! We are under siege! There are undead approaching the gates!"

"Tell Kana I will be there shortly, and gather the others."

After the harried guard had left, Raewyn returned and crawled back in beside Casavir.

"After all the years I have spent craving battle, this one has come upon us far too soon." he said, his voice heavy. "Having found at last the haven of your arms, I could wish never to leave. But I will stand the stronger beside you for the gift of your love, my lady."

"We are not needed for a little while yet, beloved. Take me in your arms once more before we face…" She could not finish the thought, and her eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Casavir!"

"Hush, now, my lady." he whispered gently, kissing away her tears. "If we have but precious moments, let us not spend them in sorrow."

They made love again, slowly, deliberately, memorizing every detail of the other, to guard and cherish against the fear of loss. He brought her to the brink over and over, holding himself back, shuddering and gasping. When she could stand it no more, she whispered "Now, come to me now, come with me, Casavir!"

He gathered her close until one could scarce have fit a blade between them, and he surged into her with powerful strokes. He felt her begin to shake beneath him as she flew apart, raking her nails over his shoulders. He surrendered to his own release, pouring himself into her, her name on his lips like a battle cry.

They remained intertwined, his weight pressed against her as if even here he would shield her from the very world. Neither wanted to be the one to let go, but at length they stirred, aware of the duties which awaited them.

"Casavir, I want you to mark me."

"What?" He turned to see she had picked up the small knife he wore at his belt from where it had been discarded last night among the pile of their clothing.

"Cut me, deep enough to leave a scar. I want to feel your touch on me, in this coming battle and always, no matter what..." her voice broke. "….no matter what happens. I don't care if it hurts, nothing could hurt more than the possibility of losing you."

He looked at her a long moment, then nodded. Taking the small knife from her, he took her hand in his. He murmured a few words over her, and her hand became encased in light. He caressed her palm, then flicked the point of the blade in a semicircle in the calloused swelling at the base of her thumb. She felt no pain thanks to the blessing he had spoken, but blood welled up at once from the C-shaped cut. He deftly bound a length of bandage over the small wound and handed her the knife, his eyes on hers.

She took it from him and incised a small, crooked 'R' in the same place, recalling that somewhere she had heard that part of the hand was connected to the heart. He let out a small grunt of pain as she did so, but did not flinch. She tossed the knife back on the bed, unwrapped her bandage, and took his hand in hers, the blood still slick between their palms. He held her gaze, deeply moved by her gesture.

"My heart is yours, my Lady, and now it beats with your blood, my beloved."

"And mine with yours, Casavir. Blood of my blood…."

His heart swelled at the words of the ancient wedding vow.

"And heart of my heart," he answered in a hoarse whisper.

He kissed her with heartbreaking tenderness, and rebound her hand. She reached for a bandage to bind his wound in turn.

"I am sorry, I cut your sword hand, I was not thinking; it will make it difficult for you..."

"I could wish nothing more than to feel your touch upon me in this fight, my lady. Come, the battle waits."

With that they gathered the last of their gear and headed to the War Room, where her sergeants and allies awaited them. They met hastily to plan their strategy for repelling the siege towers.

"Captain, who have you chosen to go with you?" asked Kana.

"Casavir" she answered without hesitation, and he nodded with quiet pride. "and, I think Khelgar, if you are willing?"

"Aye, we'll teach these beasts a lesson, lass. I'm with ye."

With that, they headed out to meet the siege engines.

* * *

A short chapter, I know. Sometimes it works out that way. :) I owe a debt to Diana Gabaldon's outstanding novel, _Outlander_, for providing the inspiration for Raewyn's request that Casavir 'mark her.' It is not identical, but please, rest assured it's inclusion here is a tribute to Diana's literary craft. If you have not read the _Outlander_ series, I _highly_ recommend it!


	31. Chapter 31: Betrayal by Sunlight

After a long and brutal night turning away the massive siege towers, the Keeps defenders had but a scant hour's rest before the bulk of the horde approached the gates. From atop the walls, Kana called out to the guards to shut the gates. As she did so, the fist glimmer if sun broke the horizon.

"Captain, look! The sun has emerged from its slumber. Garius may have fought his way under cover of darkness, but his troops are no doubt now burning under daylight's rays."

"Perfect! From here we can hold them!"

"Even with its remaining undead, the King of Shadows will be hard-pressed to breach the inner walls. Without their towers, they'll be defenseless against our attacks from above."

Bishop strolled out into the courtyard, turning a cold smirk on Raewyn. "Yes, defenseless…."

Raewyn turned to him, confused.

"Stay on the walls, and you might live through this." His voice cracked briefly, but then the contempt returned. "For what it's worth, you almost made me stick around, but that's why I'm going to have to do this."

"What are you talking about, Bishop?"

"Let me show you." He gestured to her, and she followed, a thread of fear coiling in her stomach.

He stopped near the gate, and turned to her. "This gate of yours isn't coming down, which means this precious Keep of yours won't be standing long."

"What? Why? What happened?" Raewyn looked at the mangled mechanism, refusing to accept the horrible suspicion that gnawed at her. Bishop had not, he couldn't have, could he? She turned back to him in horror, and saw a cruel sneer twist his lips, though his eyes looked oddly flat.

"Don't bother trying to repair the gate mechanism. I took a look at it earlier, and it was much easier to destroy than I thought."

"Bishop…. Why?" Words failed Raewyn as the weight of the ranger's betrayal sank in. She had trusted him, given him friendship….Casavir had been right about him all along.

For all he tried to maintain his contempt, he would not meet her eyes, but the anger left his voice. "I think you'll see the wisdom of this in time; the road's always open to the winning side, 'Captain.'" With that he turned and fled, leaving silence in his wake.

Raewyn stood a long moment, fighting back tears. Casavir drew beside her, but she raised her hand forestalling his comment. The paladin placed his hand on her shoulder in silence.

"Your orders, Captian?" Kana's question, laced with worry, snapped her out of her thoughts.

Drawing a deep breath, Raewyn turned to face her men.

"We must hold this courtyard as long as possible. Be brave men, for the sun has come to our aid!"

The defenders readied themselves to meet the assault. To their horror, the undead horde marched on unaffected by the rising sun. The reason soon became evident when Garius appeared to taunt the Knight Captain before summoning an avatar of the Shadow King. But Garius had not counted on the Sword of Gith, and Raewyn, with Casavir and Khelgar guarding her side, took down the fearsome nightwalker.

Garius hissed in rage, but his minions kept coming, implacable.

"Now, Zhjaeve! Now is the time! We must begin the recitation!"

The githzerai began to read from the scroll, the low gutteral syllables taking on a strange echo as the power of Garius' truename coalesced around her chant. Garius writhed as the power his own name surrounded him, the eldritch flames wreathing his head flickering and fading. With a cry of rage, he fled to the gate, flinging out a last desparate burst of power and vanishing. There was a moment where nothing changed, and then, one by one, his undead legion burst into flame. Soon the Keep echoed with the shrieks of Garius' dying minions.

"Victory!" cried Kana from the battlements. "The enemy flees! Send the scouts to harry them, but do not engage... we already hold the field."

Nevalle emerged into the courtyard, clearly pleased. "The day is ours!" He turned to Raewyn. "You have done well, better than we could have hoped. Your leadership has saved this Keep and preserved the lives of many soldiers. Lord Nasher thanks you... as do I.

"Thank the soldiers - they're the ones who saved us this day, not I." Beneath them, Reawyn's men, together with their allies, cheered. Raewyn smiled to see lizardfolk and dwarves sharing handshakes and embraces with her own men. She turned back to Nevalle. "We've turned back the shadow today, but this can't last."

Nevalle nodded his agreement. "Know that you have fought well this day, but as long as the King of Shadows remains within his fortress, there is no victory. We must find a way to reach him, to pierce the veil of shadows around him. If we cannot... then we have lost, and it is only a matter of time for us."

"Then it is time to take the fight to him." Raewyn looked to each of her companions, now gathered around her, in turn. "We will find him, and defeat him."

Nevalle nodded again, his approval plain. "Then I think perhaps it is time to see what Aldanon has found…."

"And so we will, Nevalle. But my men need rest. We have fought since the small hours of the morning. Aldanon's discoveries will keep until tomorrow."

"Indeed. See to your troops, and to your own rest, Captain."

Slowly, Raewyn and her companions made their way into the Keep. She stopped to watch the weary defenders make their way toward their barracks and tot he tavern. She suspected the Phoenix Tail would be busy far into the night, and smiled, happy to see they had survived with relatively few losses. She frowned then, thinking of Bishop. She had been so sure she had gotten through to him. She knew now, had known the moment he asked her to flee with him, that he had loved her. Had he known that she and Casavir had finally come together? Was that the reason for his betrayal?

With a sigh, she considered what she could have done differently. She had done her best, had given him every choice she could. Perhaps she should never have trusted him at all, but done was done. They had survived in spite of his sabotage, and the Keep stood strong. That was what mattered. She had the feeling, though, that she had not seen the last of the ranger, though part of her hoped she was wrong. With effort, she straightened her shoulders and forced the ranger from her mind.

Raewyn had not seen Casavir since the courtyard had been cleared. Once she had bathed and changed into clean clothes, she left the bath chamber to look for him. She was full of energy after the fight, and to be honest, she found she wanted Casavir, badly. She didn't have far to look, for she found him in her quarters, still armored save for his gauntlets which he twisted in his hands, pacing restlessly.

"Casavir? What's wrong?"

"It is…nothing, my lady. I would not trouble you."

"You know it's no trouble. What is it?"

"I am…unsettled. It happens sometimes after a battle. It would be better if you….left me for a time."

"Left you? But, Casavir…" her stepped close to him, her voice grew low and sultry. "I was hoping we could spend some time together…alone?"

He drew back from her and resumed his stride around the room, slapping his gauntlets against his other hand in frustration and looking decidedly uncomfortable.

"That would be…a bad idea at present." he said.

"What are you talking about, Casavir? What's gotten into you?"

He managed to look everywhere but at her, looking every bit like a caged tiger. Finally he spoke, his voice strained. "I would be unable to be….gentle."

She tried not to laugh, but could not quite stop a quick huff of laughter from escaping her lips. He shot her a pained look and continued to pace.

"My dear paladin, do you think you are the only one to suffer from….battle fever?"

"…but…"

"What makes you think I want you to be gentle?"

He stopped short and fixed her with a hungry stare, and she suddenly knew how the deer feels under the eye of the wolf.

"Time for a different kind of battle, my _Katalmach_."

He yanked her to him and captured her lips in a searing kiss. Crushed against him, his armor pressing painfully into her flesh, she felt a thrill of desire and returned his kiss with equal hunger.

Growling low in his chest, he picked her up and went to the desk. With a sweep of his hand he brushed everything off the desk with a clatter. Sweeping her skirt up her thighs, he set her on the polished wood surface. Never releasing her mouth, he opened her knees to step in closer to her, his fingers seeking her center. She gasped as he brushed her folds, already slick with her need for him.

He muttered a curse against her mouth. "Merciful Tyr, ready for me already!" Swooping in to kiss her again, he fumbled for a moment with his trews until she reached to help him. His erection sprang free and he grabbed her hips roughly, pulling her forward and burying himself inside her in a single motion.

She cried out, her hands going to his shoulders, seeking handholds in his armor. She was off balance, unable to find leverage even to meet his thrusts. She was utterly under his control as he took her, claimed her like a prize of war, and his passionate ferocity set her aflame. Her own pleasure spiraled higher and higher, and her cries merged into a keening wail.

Another growled curse escaped him as the fury of their joining built in him. He felt her begin to tremble, her body shaking beneath him, and bit his lip, trying to hold off his release just a moment more. He felt her clench around him then, her muscles tightening almost painfully. He let go, coming with a shout like a battle cry. He kept thrusting, more slowly, but unwilling to let her go.

Her cries calmed, replaced with gasps as her breathing began to slow. Holding himself insider her, he picked her up like she weighed nothing and turned to the bed. He let them fall, catching himself so as not to crush her with his armor. His hands now free, he pulled down the neck of her shift, and palmed her breasts, thumbing first one rosy nipple to hardness, then the other, until she was writhing beneath him. He took each in his mouth, sucking and tonguing, before he took her mouth again.

She kissed him, fighting his tongue with her own, nipping at his lips, each of her breaths ending in a soft moan. Casavir felt himself harden within her, and tearing himself from the sweetness of her mouth, he straightened up. Pushing her legs back toward her body, he began to thrust into her again, slowly at first, testing her limits. She rocked her hips against him, urging him on, and he complied, once again taking her hard and fast.

Neither lasted long, and in moments their cries of release rang out again. Casavir slumped to the bed to one side of her, exhaustion overtaking him. Raewyn, feeling sleep approaching her, reached out and began unbuckling Casavir's armor. He rose and finished the task before settling into bed beside her.

"I am sorry, my love, if I…."

She put a finger on his lips, which he kissed automatically. "You were perfect, my _Katalmach_. I love you."

"And I you, my lady."

They slept then, and when they woke, they loved again. At last, hunger drove them out of her chambers, they didn't emerge for dinner until very, very, late.


	32. Chapter 32: To the Shadow King's Lair

The time had come to end it. The Keep was safe for now, but the Shadow King would waste no time in rallying his forces once more. Crossroad Keep was the last stronghold before Neverwinter fell, and they could not withstand another assault. Aldanon had deciphered enough of the Tome of Ilkazar that he was reasonably certain he could get them inside the ruined palace within the Vale of Merdelain where the King of Shadows waited.

"Can we use the Tome to return if….when we have defeated the Shadow King?" Raewyn asked.

"I think so," replied the aged wizard. "But I cannot say just where a portal cast within the Ilefarn Keep will take you. Then again, it's not too likely to be worse than whatever you'd be leaving behind, so that shouldn't be a problem, even assuming you're alive enough to care."

"Thank you, Aldanon. We must prepare, and will depart in an hour."

"I respect the wizard greatly, but he does not often inspire much confidence" Casavir rumbled in her ear as they gathered their gear. In spite of her apprehension, she snickered at his remark. She smiled wider as she recalled how often the others failed to grasp Casavir's dry wit, thinking his comments merely staid and humorless. Let them think what they would, she treasured the secrets of her paladin.

Her smile faded as she looked to see the others hurrying to the courtyard where Aldanon was preparing the portal. She knew it was likely some of them would not be returning, and it weighed heavily upon her.

She took a deep breath. "Time to go, I suppose. Are you ready, my _Katalmach_?"

She had taken his former nickname as a pet name for him, referring now to the way in which he lost himself on an altogether different battlefield, and a wry twist of his lips greeted her use of it now. "I am always ready to stand beside you, my lady."

They headed toward the courtyard, when suddenly Casavir reached out for her arm.

"My lady, a moment." he said, drawing her into one of the small offices that flanked the entrance to the great hall.

"What is it?"

He swung the door shut behind him and pushed her hard against the wall, his mouth descending on hers in a desperate kiss. He pulled her close to him, his fingers digging into her flesh in his urgency. She felt his hard length against her thigh, and his armor dug into her side, but she held to him as tightly as she could.

"Once more, I need you! But quickly." His voice was rough and low in her ear, and she trembled, ready for him almost instantly.

She fumbled to pull aside her tunic as he did to undo his trews. He lifted her leg around his hip and slid into her with a single powerful thrust. He took her fast and hard, and they climaxed together in moments. He kissed her again, hard, even as they righted their clothing.

"There is nothing that can stand against us when we are together, my lady, in this life or the next. Blood of my blood," he clasped her hand as he had the night he marked her.

"And heart of my heart, beloved."

If any of the company noticed their Captain's swollen and kiss-bruised lips, none of them chose to inquire. The time had come.


	33. Chapter 33: The Final Battle

Bishop's appearance at the Shadow King's side was a blow Raewyn had not expected, though her companions, who had never shared her hope that the ranger had good in him, seemed unsurprised. Raewyn was relieved that he had chosen to depart rather than fight them; even after his betrayal, his death at her hands would have borne heavily on her, even heavier than Lorne's. She thought he would find or make his own price for his deeds, and was not bothered to see his escape. Qara's turn also came as little shock; she had always chosen rashly in favor of immediate gain, and had resented Raewyn's refusal to let her run wild at every slight, real or imagined. Raewyn knew there was nothing she could have done differently, and though her betrayal may not have been as total as Bishop's, her death did not trouble Raewyn overmuch.

She was heartened by the loyalty of her other companions, and grateful they had chosen to stand with her at the last. Casavir of course never wavered, and his strength and love were a beacon even in the worst of the battle. Even Neeshka, despite Garius's torments and manipulation, had chosen to stand beside her.

Against any odds, and even Raewyn's expectations, they won. But their defeat of the Shadow unraveled much of the magic that had held the ancient ruin together, and in a cruel irony, the shaking ground and crumbling walls became their enemies now. The companions fled the destruction, running madly in what they hoped was a likely escape route. They had found but a single exit passage on their search for the inner sanctum of the Shadow King, but so many of the massive corridors looked alike they could not say for certain where it was.

"We're not going to make it!" cried the druidess.

"Courage, Elanee, we're not dead yet. Zhjaeve, can you open a portal?" cried Raewyn over the thunder of falling stone and the pounding of their steps.

"I think that yes, I can, but we must find an open space in which to do so."

They were running down a long, wide hall, with deep-set doorways every thirty feet or so. The destruction seemed less drastic here, though dust was sifting down like a cloying rain from the ceiling even as they ran.

"In here!" Raewyn led them into a large chamber which opened off a recessed door.

The Githzerai skidded through the door, weaving a spell as she went. Before her, at the far side of the room, purple and green mists appeared and began to coalesce into the oval shape of a portal. Raewyn looked back to see Neeshka and Elanee come through the vestibule, with Ammon and Khelgar hard on their heels. The floor shook and a curtain of dust and debris fell, obscuring her vision.

The dust cleared for a moment and she saw Casavir, his sword and shield fallen at his feet, straining with both hands to brace a pillar that looked to be the only thing still holding up the ceiling of the vestibule.

"Casavir! Hurry!" She cried.

"Go, my lady, I shall follow with the others!"

Another rain of debris cut him off from her sight, but she heard Sand yelling for the little harper to make haste. Khelgar grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the portal.

"Come on, lass, it's all coming down!"

One by one, they tumbled through Zhjaeve's hastily cast portal. They had emerged in a crevice about halfway up a mountain range Raewyn didn't recognize. She looked around, seeing her companions safe and alive, if battered…

"Casavir? Where's Casavir?" Panic gripped her. "Where is he? Casavir!"

"Lady," came Ammon's voice from behind her. She whirled to face him.

"When the stones began to fall, he stayed to hold open the doorway for the rest. Even as I looked back, the rockfall became too great even for his strength. I fear he was buried. I am sorry."

"We have to go back! We have to find him! Zhjaeve, the portal, it's beginning to close, we have to go back! I have to go back!" She lunged for the now flickering oval of light, but her companions stopped her.

"Let me go, it's closing, I have to go back! We can't leave him!"

"Lass, you canna go back," came Khelgar's gruff reply. "There's no place to go back to. He's gone, lassie, I'm sorry."

"No! No, he's not, we have to get him!" Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her voice broke. "Casavir, hold on! Please let me go!"

With a last shimmer of green and purple light, the portal winked out, leaving them in the shadows of the mountain dusk.

"CASAVIR!"

The echoes of her cry rang through the canyon, lingering long in their hearing. Her companions let her go and she flung herself at the rock face where the portal had been a moment before, where she sank to her knees and hammered against it with her fists, sobbing.

Her companions stood around her, heads bowed, all of them sharing their leader's anguish. After a few minutes, Raewyn collected herself, took a deep breath and rose, looking around. She forced down her panic and worry, and a grim, almost manic determination settled over her.

"Where are we? We need to get moving, quickly. Does anyone recognize this place?"

It took them two days of hard travel to descend and find a nearby farm, a small settlement a day's march from the nearest village. After resting overnight, they continued on. None of the companions spoke much. Exhaustion after the hard struggle and sorrow over the loss of the paladin muted even Grobnar's usual prattle.

When they arrived in the village, Raewyn went at once to the local garrison to arrange a for messages to be sent to Lord Nasher, Sir Nevalle, and her sergeants with news of their success and instructions for the Keep. Ammon took his leave of her, saying that he had fulfilled what he had set out to do so long ago, and now wanted only solitude. She thanked him for his help and wished him well, but was content to have him go. The memory of Shandra had never left her, and she could not easily look on Ammon.

That night, as they gathered in the common room of the small and dingy inn, she stood, leaning heavily on the table before her and addressed them all for the first time since they had come through the portal.

"One of our number sacrificed himself for all of us, and lies now in the belly of the Shadow King's lair. Ammon said he saw Casavir buried, but I tell you I am certain he is alive. Perhaps it is something to do with the shard within me, or maybe it is simply...a connection we share, but I can sense his life. It is weak, but it is there."

"Know that I sense this also, _Kalach-Cha_." added Zhjaeve. "The Warrior Spirit burns in your _Katalmach_ still, though it flickers."

She looked at each of them in turn before speaking again.

"None know better than I how tired we all are, and how anxious for home. I know too that laurels and accolades aplenty await our return. And ale barrels, too," she added with a tired smile at Khelgar.

"But I will not leave a comrade behind. I will not return home without Casavir while I know he lives." She paused again, running her thumb over the still red monogram on her other hand. Weariness and worry were written across her features. She did not look up as she spoke again.

"I am going back. I intend to set a punishing pace. I must hurry if I am to find Casavir in time. I have already sent word to Lord Nasher of my intentions, and sent instructions for the Keep. I speak now not as a commanding officer, but as a companion to each of you. I will not order any of you to return with me, and I will not fault you if you do not. You will each be welcome at the Keep if you wish, or you may go your way with no blame given. It is for each of you to decide. I leave at first light."

With that, she went upstairs to prepare her gear, and rest, if not sleep.

Those around the table said little, each of them thinking of the paladin lost beneath the stones. Each of them could remember a time when his shield and his blade had come between them and harm, or when his healing had restored their strength and eased their agony. One by one they drifted upstairs.

When Raewyn came into the courtyard with the first light of dawn, she found her companions awaiting her. Every one of them had chosen to accompany her, even Neeshka. She squeezed the tiefling's shoulder and smiled at all of them, tears tracing down her cheeks.

"Thank you. All of you. This means more to me than you can know…"

"Ach, lassie, we'd not let you go alone." She couldn't be sure, but Khelgar's eyes may not have been entirely dry either. He added gruffly, "Besides, how else could I get the chance to tease that tincan about bein' the one to rescue him?"

"This is all very touching, but are we talking or walking?" came Sand's dry retort.

Raewyn shot him a look of gratitude, and they set off.

It took two days of hard travel to reach the Vale of Merdelain and the entrance to the lair. Raewyn had not lied about the pace she set, and her worry for the paladin kept her feet moving when she could easily have dropped into the nearest bush and slept for a week. Their journey was uneventful and they made good time to the mouth of the ruined lair. With the King of Shadow's defeat, the dark taint had left the Mere and signs of returning life could already be seen.

When they had first explored the underground ruin after using the Tome's power to take them into the keep, they had looked for exit passages. They had found one narrow side tunnel, and marked its mouth. Though the land seemed to be changing almost as they watched, they found the entrance again with little difficulty.

"Here we are, lass. It might be a long walk from here to where…" Khelgar didn't finish.

"Why don't we just pop in again? Wouldn't that be faster?" asked Neeshka, with just a touch of a whine.

"We don't know which chambers are still intact. We could emerge into a fallen wall or a rubble-filled room." their leader replied.

Sand added "There is no reason to believe that those black portals that moved us from place to place before are still present; the Shadow King's magic moved us through the ruin. With that magic dispelled, we will not be able to retrace our path exactly. It appears we must find our own way from here."

Raewyn glanced skyward; it was nearly nightfall. There seemed little point in camping outside, under the rainclouds which threatened.

"Let's get moving." she said. "We might as well camp dry. I think it is likely safe enough inside. It is too soon for orcs or goblins to have moved in."

They entered and found more of the structure intact than they expected. Perhaps the destruction had been localized. If so it would make their search easier. As she lay down to what would prove to be a fitful sleep, Raewyn whispered to the stillness "I'm coming, beloved; hold on."

* * *

This ends the original campaign section of the story. As much as I adore this game, I cannot tell you how deeply betrayed I felt on my first playthrough. "Rocks fall, everyone dies." Seriously? After all that! An ending Bishop himself could have crafted. But fear not; our tale goes on...


	34. Chapter 34: Return to Me

A.N.: From here on, this story is AU, though it loosely follows the hints given in MotB and SoZ as to Casavir's fate. Thanks for reading this far, and I hope you enjoy my 'sequel.'

* * *

_You shine like the moon over water  
And you darken the sky when you leave  
Now I want to know how to keep you  
Return to me_

_Everything I tell you has been spoken  
And everything I say was said before  
But everything I feel is for the first time  
And everything I feel, I feel for you_

_I am here, calling the wind  
I am here, calling your name  
I am here, calling you back  
Return to me_

_I know what it means to be lonely  
And I know what it means to be free  
Now I want to know how to love you  
Return to me_

_I am here, calling the wind  
I am here, calling your name  
I am here, calling you back  
Return to me  
I am here  
Return to me*_

They searched the ruins for days. They had found the very doorway where Casavir had stood, holding the passage open for the last of them to escape. In the dust nearby, they found his shield and the Holy Avenger blade he had carried since the day Raewyn had given it to him atop Galardrym's peak. But of the paladin himself, they found no sign. There were a few ragged marks that might have been footprints, or might have only been the marks of the wind stirring the dust left by the collapse. Finally, they had searched every inch of the ruin they could reach.

Realizing they could do no more, the little band had quit the Vale of Merdelain and turned their steps back to Crossroad Keep at last. Raewyn did not speak from when they left the ruin until they arrived at the Keep. The celebrations which awaited them were subdued by loss, but the welcome was warm nonetheless.

Once she'd taken stock of the damage to the Keep and her Graycloaks—which were minimal; it seemed their efforts in the Vale had kept Garius and the King of Shadows too busy to wreak much havoc outside the Mere—Raewyn immediately met with her sergeants and began sending out spies and messages to every contact she could think of. She had built up quite a network of eyes and ears throughout Neverwinter and the surrounding areas, and now she reached out to every ally, every acquaintance she had. It would take time, but someone, somewhere, had to know what had befallen her paladin.

The days grew shorter and the mornings began to hold a chill. Raewyn was kept busy by the workings of the Keep, but the thought of Casavir was never far from her. As relieved as she had been that they had not found him perished in the ruins, the uncertainty plagued her. She remained convinced he lived, but beyond that she could guess nothing of his whereabouts. Was he alive and well but simply choosing not to return? Was he injured or trapped somewhere, unable to travel? For all they tried, neither Sand nor Elanee could pinpoint his whereabouts with any magics, though they and Zhjaeve, like Raewyn herself, remained certain he lived.

By day, Raewyn still made frequent rounds of the Keep and the surrounding farms, stopping to talk with shopkeepers, workers, and of course the ubiquitous Graycloaks. But she took to the battlements most evenings, watching the sun set as the shadows swallowed the surrounding farmlands. Standing there, where they had spoken of love before the siege, she sent out her love and loneliness to the wind, as though by force of will she could call the paladin back to her side.

When darkness fell, she would retire to her chambers or to the library, reading far into the night, and when that failed, she would wander the halls of the keep. One way or another, she avoided sleep until exhaustion claimed her, seeking to escape the nightmares which haunted her slumber, as well as the pleasanter dreams, which in their own way were worse.

One night, about a month after their return, as she padded through the darkened halls, she found herself outside Casavir's chamber. She had refused to allow it to be emptied or his belongings put in storage, insisting that it be left as it was in hopes of his return. The head of her household staff had agreed to her request, shaking his head sadly in sympathy for his mistress' pain. Nevertheless, he saw that it was cleaned regularly, but left otherwise untouched.

She entered quietly, the throat aching as she remembered all the nights she had crept through this very door to rest beside Casavir. Feeling almost as though she was invading a sanctuary, she reverently closed the door behind her with a quiet click. The moonlight shone full through the narrow window, illuminating parts of the room while filling the rest with shadows. If she looked sideways, she could almost imagine she saw the form of the sleeping paladin on the bed, and she felt a lump in her throat.

She looked at the armor stand beside the door, empty save for the sword and shield they had found in the ruins at Meredelain and brought back with them. She had cleaned and polished them herself, and had placed them here for him. She knelt now before the stand, her hand ghosting over the shield and its proud emblem of the hammer and scales of Tyr.

"Lord Tyr, please bring your son home safe." she murmured.

Her hand then moved to the powerful Holy Avenger sword he had carried ever since they had won it from the great red dragon Tholapsyx. She saw again the awe in his face when she had given him the blade, and he realized what it was. Raewyn shuddered a little, remembering the injury he had suffered in that struggle. Their magic drained, their potions gone, she had cleansed and bandaged it for him as best she could by the firelight, and he had asked her to stay beside him that night. It had been the first time in many days that they had both slept soundly.

Gods, why had they waited so long? Both of them had been so caught in fear and obligation...why had she not known then that he loved her, or a hundred times before that? Why had she herself not spoken? They'd had so little time before…. With effort she returned her thoughts to the present.

Her hand caressed the leather-wrapped hilt as though in touching where his hand had gripped, she could somehow touch him. The sword remained cold in her hand. With a sigh, she rose and moved about the room. Casavir had owned little, but those of his possessions he had not carried with him into the Shadow King's lair were scattered about the room with the air of someone who left in a hurry, but expects to return and tidy up soon.

On the small desk were the book he had been reading, his place marked with a scrap of leather, a few extra potion flasks, an inkwell and a few quills, a hank of leather cord of the sort he used to fasten the sections of his plate together, a worn and battered symbol of Tyr, and a few other odds and ends.

She picked up the book, and opened it to the marked page. It was a volume of philosophy by one of the scholars of the old Ilefarn empire. The Keep boasted an fairly impressive library, and to this day, Aldanon still spent most every day there himself, though with the threat of the Shadow King vanquished, he spent more time napping in the sunny window than researching. She'd been surprised when Casavir was nearly as excited by the restored collection as the sage, but the paladin proved to be very well-read. It was possibly the first time she'd ever felt gratitude to her foster father, Daeghun for the lessons he'd made her sit through; for she was able to share a good deal of Casavir's love of literature.

She caressed the pages, seeking another tenuous thread of connection with her absent love. She closed the book sadly, only then noticing the unmarked leather-bound volume which had rested beneath it.

Setting aside the philosophy, she picked up the much smaller book. It fell open to a page covered with neat handwriting which she recognized as Casavir's. Realizing it was a diary, she glanced away, moving her eyes to the blank page facing, not wishing to violate the privacy of whatever he had written there. Perhaps, if one day she felt she needed to seek answers here, she might do so; but for now she refrained, determined that he would return and answer any questions she might have himself.

Only then did she realize why the book had opened as it had; tucked between the pages was a length of green ribbon. Her vision blurred with unshed tears when she recognized it as the ribbon she had worn in her hair the night they had danced at the Flagon after her duel with Lorne. She vaguely remembered losing it that night, and had never though more upon it. He had kept it so close for so long, a cherished treasure. She thought back to the humming desire that had flowed between them as they paced through the stately measure of the dance; had he loved her even then?

She replaced both the journal and the philosophy text and turned towards the bed. On the table beside the bed was a small painting in a rough wooden frame. She bent and picked it up, bringing it into the shaft of moonlight to see it better. Though simply done, the painting showed her in West Harbor, laughing with some of its children.

She didn't know how he'd gotten the painting, or who had done it, but she remembered the day well. It had been a rare sunny day in the Mere when she had returned to West Harbor to tell poor Rhetta Starling what had become of her son, Lorne. She recalled him standing off to the side, smiling as she had been thronged by the village children, excited to see her return and full of wide-eyed questions.

She had taken only Casavir with her on the journey, knowing he understood how much she had dreaded delivering such news to the woman she had looked on as a foster-mother. They had talked much on the way, getting to know each other. He was kind and supportive, and she had enjoyed the journey in spite of the ill news she carried. Once again tears threatened as she remembered the last time she'd been to West Harbor, finding it destroyed. She'd almost pushed Casavir away that day, in her anguished grief. She sighed, realizing how much he must have cherished her, to have carried this portrait with him.

She replaced the little painting and sat on the bed. Running her hand idly over the tangled sheets, she found a linen tunic, the kind he favored for relaxing in the evenings. She drew it to her, and brought it to her face to lean her cheek on the soft fabric. She was engulfed with the smell of him: the herbal soap he bathed with, leather, incense, and woodsmoke, all underlaid by the clean, masculine scent of pure Casavir. She clutched the shirt to her as she finally lost the battle with her tears. As her sobs subsided, she laid her head on his pillow, clutching his shirt to her breast, and there, surrounded by his scent and his presence, she slept.

Midwinter was upon them when a messenger panted up the road to the Keep, bearing news for the Knight Captain. Kana tried over his objections to persuade him to rest before reporting, but the clamor had brought Raewyn running anyway.

"You have news?" she asked.

"Yes." he answered between ragged breaths. "Found Sir Casavir. He's been…captured."

"Captured?" Raewyn's heart leapt, then squeezed in apprehension. "By whom? Where is he?"

"Luskan."

* * *

*Lyrics to 'Return to Me' by October Project. All rights etc. belong to the artist.


	35. Chapter 35: Needle in a Haystack

Raewyn fell heavily onto the step, relief overshadowed by dread. How had he been taken by Luskan? She was all too familiar with Luskan rough justice, and remembered Sand's words to her when she had been accused by Luskan. _"...they will execute you as soon as you step within the gate. And when I say 'execute,' do not think it will be one clean chop of a headman's axe. Luskans have all sorts of inventive ways for executing prisoners that is best not to describe on a full stomach."_ The thought of Casavir in their hands filled her with dread.

Kana suggested they adjourn to Raewyn's study, and they did so. Closing the door behind them and taking a deep breath, Raewyn faced the messenger. "Thank you for your speed, good man. What is your name?"

"Kerdan, lady."

"Kerdan, please tell me everything you know."

He told them how he and his men had been traveling in the guise of traders and run into a band of Luskan monks. One of the few classes of Luskans who freely mixed with outsiders, the monks had spent several days traveling with the 'traders.' In the course of sharing stories, they had, with suitable encouragement, told Kerdan that another of their order had been summoned to heal a paladin, battered and wounded, who had been discovered by Luskan spies in the ruins of a collapsed Ilefarn Temple. Once the monks had repaired his injuries, the paladin had been taken prisoner. Word had gone around that he been charged with a series of murders in a village on the Luskan border, for reasons the monks did not know. He had been tried and sent to a Luskan prison, but the monks had not known where. "That's all I was able to discover, my lady." Kerdan concluded apologetically.

"You have done well, Kerdan. I am truly grateful to you." Speaking to one of her guards she added "Please show Kerdan to the guest quarters, and see that he has food and healing if he needs it."

The next hours were spent in the war room, talking over every detail of what the messenger told them, and comparing it with what their intelligence knew of events in Luskan. None of their informants had ever mentioned any murders in a border village, but that meant little. If they had occurred at all, they all knew that Casavir could not have been responsible, and with the exception of Ember, had not ever been in any village on the Luskan border.

Raewyn knew from experience how Luskan justice worked, and the similarity of the charges against the paladin to those that had been leveled against her was not lost on any of them. That the Luskan ambassadors had not attempted to use the supposed crime of one of Neverwinter's heroes against Nasher seemed to indicate that the charges had been purely for show, and Raewyn suspected that it was a message was intended for her.

Therefore, it seemed that investigation into the village or the murder charges would yield no useful information. The more pressing problem was that they had no way of knowing where in Luskan Casavir might be held, how long he would remain alive, or what plans the Luskans might have for him.

Having gone over everything they had, Raewyn thought for a long moment, then spoke.

"Alright. Here is what we must do. Kana and Bevil, keep working with anyone we know or can contact in and around Luskan. We need to find out exactly where Casavir is being held."

"This may take time, Captain. Finding one prisoner in all of the Luskan Empire…."

"I know, Bevil. Let us hope it takes less time than more, but we must do our best. Katriona, please find Neeshka and ask her to report to me as soon as she is able."

"Yes, Captain." she paused a moment before asking "What will you do when we find him?" Her face was tense, and Raewyn recalled that she, too, had once loved Casavir.

She placed a hand on her sergeants' shoulder. "We're going to get him back, Katriona. I will not leave him in Luskan hands."

"Yes, ma'am." her sergeant responded with a small smile.

"My lady!" came Kana's shocked reply "You could risk open war with the Luskan Empire! You must inform Lord Nasher…"

"No." She said it firmly, and Kana blinked in surprise. "If Nasher becomes involved, Casavir is dead. Consider: what would you expect Luskan to do if they captured a hero of Neverwinter?"

Kana thought a moment. "They would demand a ransom from Neverwinter. They would boast of capturing a rogue Neverwinter paladin, and they would publicize his crimes in order to turn it to their advantage."

"Correct. And they have done neither. This means that they seem to be keeping him alive for their own reasons. If Neverwinter formally opens the subject through diplomatic channels, they will have to deny any knowledge of him, or be found in violation of the treaty. So what would they do then?"

Katriona went pale as she answered. "They would have to kill him rather than risk his being found."

"Exactly." said Raewyn, grimly. "This must not become a diplomatic matter. Once we know more, we will devise a plan and I will inform Neverwinter then. For now, no matter how helpful his intentions, Lord Nasher's involvement could only pose a risk to Casavir."

"But how else can we hope to get him back?"

"Once we locate him, I will go to free him and bring him home. Alone," she added firmly.

"But that would be suicide, Raewyn!" This objection came from Bevil.

"I'm not going on a suicidal berserker mission, Bevil. That is why I need to see Neeshka. She can help me learn what I need to in order to slip into Luskan and bring Casavir out." She turned to address all of them again. "I must be ready when we find him, and we must hurry. I do not wish to trust the Luskans to care for our companion any longer than we must. Dismissed."

"Me, too, Raewyn?" Raewyn turned to see Neeshka poking her head around the doorframe as the others filed out.

"No, Neeshka, come in. I have a favor to ask of you."

"Let me guess; you need me to show you how to sneak into a prison, get past the guards, bust out a paladin, and maybe pick some locks along the way, right?"

Despite her worry, Raewyn chuckled. "Nothing that happens in this Keep escapes you, does it, Neeshka?"

"Not much! So you found the tin-can, huh?" Khelgar and the tiefling had finally become friends, and their bickering was now mostly for show. She had picked up the dwarf's nickname for Casavir, as well.

"Well, we have an idea where he is. We don't know exactly where yet, and of course we can't go in openly. It is possible Lord Nasher might be willing to petition the Luskan ambassador, but not likely. But even if he did, he would almost certainly sign Casavir's death warrant. Even at best, a refusal would force Luskan to move him, making subsequent rescue attempts impossible, so I think it would be better if he did not." She looked at the rogue for a long moment.

"So my best option is to go alone, without Neverwinter's endorsement or protection. One person can move unnoticed more easily than a larger group. However, if I fail, or am captured…"

"…let me guess, Neverwinter will be outraged, and deny knowing anything about it. They will leave you to the Luskans." Neeshka finished for her.

"Yes." Raewyn answered evenly. "But it is the only way that a failed rescue would not lead to open war."

"It's a big risk, but…." the tiefling paused, and Raewyn wondered what she was thinking. She knew Neeshka had disliked the paladin at first, and while she thought they had gotten past their differences, she didn't really know; there hadn't been much time for talking about such things before the battle with the Shadow King.

"What the heck." The rogue looked like she was enjoying the idea. "Sure, I'll do my best. I kind of miss the tin-can. But we better get busy; you're kind of a klutz, no offense."

For the first time in a long time, Raewyn really laughed. "None taken, my friend. And I think you are not wrong!"

Over the next months, Raewyn spent hours with Neeshka, picking locks until her eyes blurred and her hands ached. They practiced moving silently, sneaking around until Raewyn could reliably sneak past or surprise almost anyone in the Keep. There were times when Raewyn fervently wished Bishop had not chosen the path he had, for she would have valued his assistance as well; she could think of no one better equipped for such a mission into Luskan territory.

When she wasn't picking locks or sneaking about, she was prowling the Keep and its surrounding lands looking for the traps Neeshka set for her. For weeks, Raewyn was covered with minor burns and dozens of tiny puncture wounds, until she managed to spot the traps before triggering them, and then finally to disarm them safely. Holding up the scorched and dart-riddled remains of yet another tunic, Neeshka teased her that if she didn't get the hang of it soon, she'd run out of clothing completely.

The pair spent even more hours in the training suite, as Neeshka taught Raewyn meditation. It was an altogether different type of meditation than that Casavir had taught her, and for Raewyn's overactive mind, it proved a challenge. But Neeshka persisted, showing her techniques for clearing her mind, making herself a dark mirror for the awareness of others, reflecting nothing, hiding what was behind.

They were sitting in just one such session of meditation when Bevil burst into the room, throwing the doors open so hard they slammed the walls on either side.

"My lady! We've found him!"


	36. Chapter 36: Rescue

Raewyn crept along yet another dank, filthy corridor, hugging the shadows, and cursing the need for stealth. After long, agonizing weeks spent scrying, working through informants, and sifting through dockside rumors to finally discover where in Luskan Casavir was being held, Raewyn wanted to charge into Blackrock and wrest him from his captors with all the rage and fear inside her. She knew to do so was not only suicidal, but posed a risk to Casavir as well. Therefore, she had come alone and taken pains to disguise her identity, so that if the worse befell and she was captured, she was unlikely to be connected to a seemingly abandoned rogue paladin. Nevertheless, she would have given much for her companions and her Graycloaks at her back.

She was shaken from her musings by the sound of another guard approaching. Silently sending a thank you to Neeshka for training her to slip where she pleased unseen and unheard, she ducked into a shadowed alcove. She let stillness flow like water into her mind as Neeshka had instructed her, and watched from beneath a sea of calm as the guards passed within mere inches of her. She waited until quiet filled the hall once more before resuming her silent search.

She had covered over half this wing of the prison already, stopping by each cell and peering in to see who was imprisoned there. She had only a general idea of where Casavir might be held, but all her best informants had been unable to find out where in the massive structure exactly, forcing her painstaking cell by cell search.

She had seen enough, however, to build a cold fury within her. The first thing she did on getting Casavir safe home would be to speak with Lord Nasher about the plight of the poor wretches kept here. Blackrock was notorious up and down the Sword Coast as a hellish nightmare. Even the worst of thieves, thugs, and brigands spoke the name in hushed voices, for those who were sent to Blackrock were not seen again.

As Raewyn had moved through the long rows of cells, she saw that Blackrock's reputation was not exaggerated. The conditions were deplorable, and the occupants she had discovered came from every race and every land in Faerûn. One leaf at a time, she reminded herself. She smiled briefly at her unconscious use of one of her foster-father Daegun's favorite phrases before returning her attention to the task at hand.

Before she moved, she checked, for the hundredth time, the bag of holding at her belt, where she had carefully stashed every healing or restorative elixir she, Sand and Elanee could think of, along with armor, weapons, and clean clothing for Casavir. Fearing he might be too weak after months of imprisonment to don the daunting weight of the plate armor he usually favored, she had chosen instead to bring lightweight armor, chain of elven manufacture, and a pair of short swords. Besides, plate armor, shields and longswords did not suit for crawling through tunnels, and if—when, she corrected herself sternly—she found Casavir, they would be doing quite a lot of that.

The next cell held an elf, withered and drawn, who sat in the middle of the room, not moving. And the next after that held an aged tiefling, old enough for his horns to have two full curves. She knew from Neeshka that he must be at least a century old. She winced thinking of her friend as she looked a moment more at the venerable being before her. She had just moved toward the next cell when an earsplitting cry shattered the silence.

"Noooooo! Gods, no, please, not again!"

She froze, immediately terrified of the surge of guards she expected to come running in response to the racket. A heartbeat later her fear turned to something else. She knew that voice. It was Casavir.

She had found him, for the cry had come from a cell near the far end of the hall. As the echoes died, she realized there was no response coming. No guards' boot treads echoed in the corridors. Not even the other prisoners stirred. Were all of the cells' other occupants so broken that they didn't notice? Or were such cries not unusual? Neither option did anything to reassure her, despite her relief that she was not now surrounded by guards on full alert. A moment's hesitation and her fear for the paladin outpaced her fear of discovery, and she raced on silent feet toward the cell from which his voice had come.

She reached the cell, and steeled herself before peering in through the barred opening. The huddled figure before her eyes could not be Casavir! A man clad in rags sat, knees drawn to his chest, his head buried in his hands, murmuring brokenly. Her heart twisted as she looked harder at the shape of the shoulder, the contour of the hands, the curve of the skull, and realized it was indeed Casavir. He was thin, worn, bruised and filthy, but it was him. For all that her heart sang to see him, she wanted to weep for his obvious suffering.

Taking a deep breath, and remembering once again Neeshka's tutelage, she put aside with some effort the image of the strong paladin now muttering in the corner, and closed off her mind to everything but the lock before her. She had never come close to the rogue's skills, but Raewyn had, the tiefling pronounced, become 'not too bad' with the thieves' tools she had given her. Still, she fretted over how long it was taking her to find the pressure points that would release the lock mechanism. They lock was rusted and grimed, giving evidence of how much time had passed since this door had been opened, and Raewyn again bit down her rising anger.

Finally, with a soft 'chink,' the lock gave way. Jamming the handle of one of the picks into the frame as she had been taught, she reached into her bag for a small flask of oil with which to silence the hinges. Given the lack of reply to Casavir's outcries, she doubted anyone was listening or would hear if the hinges creaked. On the other hand, a prisoner's cries were much less likely to bring the guards at a run than the screeching of what in this place could only be a cell door's hinges, and she was grateful her rogue tutor had included this step. She would never have thought of it on her own.

Finally, after stowing her tools and the flask, she took a fine string and rubbed it in the filthy corners of the doorframe until it was the same shade of filthy as everything else here. She then tied it around the lock, making it appear that the lock was still closed, another trick she had acquired from the former thief. It wouldn't pass any real inspection, as the door would not quite close all the way thus rigged, but someone merely walking past and not looking for something to be wrong would be unlikely to notice it. She hoped it would be unnecessary, given her familiarity with the guard shifts, but if someone did come by, it should give her the time she needed to determine Casavir's condition and get him ready for the escape she had planned.

At last, she eased the door open with painstaking slowness. This was the most vulnerable moment of the rescue. With the door half open, she would have to decide whether to go into the cell or back down the hall if someone came. She didn't know if Casavir would inadvertently reveal her presence if she went in, but she could not flee down the hall without leaving the door ajar. Either could put both her and Casavir in grave danger. She took a deep breath and began to slowly inch open the door far enough to slip inside.


	37. Chapter 37: Escape

It took her what seemed like hours, but she finally got the door open far enough to allow her to slip through and close it behind her, once again using the handle of one of the thieves' tools to wedge it shut, since the rigged lock would prevent it from catching and locking her in. The cell was dim, and she had been quiet; it did not seem as if Casavir had noticed her. She crept slowly toward him, not wanting to startle him. She was mere inches from touching him when he sprang up with heart-stopping suddenness and crouched before her as if ready to spring.

"Now my nightmares follow me to waking? Or am I so mad I can no longer tell the difference?" he snarled, his eyes unfocused in the gloom. "What do you want to torment me with now, hell-bitch?"

"Casavir, it's me. I'm getting you out of here."

His face crumpled in despair, but his fists clenched. "No, not her. Please. I beg you, not her again. Gods, leave me alone, damn you! There is nothing I can tell you!"

"Wait, no, Casavir. It's me, it's Raewyn. What are you talking about?"

He sprang at her, grabbing her shoulders with strength she would not have guessed he still possessed, and slammed her into the wall of the cell. She hit with a loud "Oooph!" and slid halfway to the floor, dazed. She shook her head, trying to rise, still dizzy. He loomed over her, his blue eyes gone icy, mad with rage.

"Why? Why torment me. You come here as my family, my friends, those I have killed, those I have loved, those I have failed…. This I can bear. But not her. Not her, not my lady. No more, not again."

"Casavir, it's me, really. I swear to you. Don't you remember?"

"I will kill you before I give you the satisfaction of falling for this again, hell-bitch!" he roared, reaching for her and dragging her to her feet, still pinned to the filthy stone of the wall.

"Casavir, stop! I won't fight you!" she cried as she tried to loosen his grip on her shoulder.

"I don't know what they have done to you, but I'm real. I will not fight you!" She held her hands open to either side and looked at him, pain filling her eyes.

"Then you'll die that much sooner." he spat.

He pinned her to the wall with one hand, and drew back his fist. Even weakened as he was, she knew he could very well kill her with that punch, or the one that followed it. She'd come so far. If she couldn't save him, he might as well be the one to kill her. She stifled a sob, and tears streamed from her eyes, making tracks in the grime that covered her cheeks.

She held up her hands, palms up, pleading. She showed him the scar where he had marked her what seemed like a lifetime ago. "Blood of my blood…. Casavir, beloved, please…." she whispered, her voice breaking.

He hesitated, and Raewyn hardly dared to breathe. She saw the rage melt from his features, leaving confusion, then fear, then anguish.

"And heart of my heart….Raewyn?" he whispered. "My lady, are you real? They…so many times they…looked like you. And your tears…" He touched her cheek with a roughened fingertip and felt the wetness there. "Oh, gods, my love, if this is not real, please kill me. Blessed Tyr, please take me if this is another of their tricks! I cannot stand it if it is."

He sank to his knees before her and clasped her scarred hand to his cheek, hoarse gasps forcing their way out of him. She knelt with him, wrapping her arms around him, murmuring softly, stroking his hair.

"I'm real Casavir, I promise. Bevin and Kana and the Graycloaks managed to find out where you were, Sand and Neeshka helped me get ready, and Lord Nasher gave me personal leave to come and find you. I'm here, and I'm taking you home. We're getting out of here, Casavir." She didn't know exactly what had him so terrified, but she reassured him anyway. "It's over. They aren't coming back, love. It's over. We're going home, beloved."

She babbled, her flow of reassurances calming him. Her relief at finding him at last and getting through to him were making her a little giddy, but exhaustion loomed not far away. Finally she just held him, drinking in the feel of him solid in her arms after so long. They sat that way a long time, not speaking, just holding on. Finally, he raised his head and looked into her eyes for the first time.

"... And although it is dark…" he said haltingly, "...you shine brightly to me."

"There is nothing that can stand against us when we are together, my love, in this life or the next." she answered him. She held him again for a few more moments, but time was short.

"Casavir, we have to get moving. We haven't got long before the watch changes, and we have to be out of the cell and down the hall before that happens. Can you stand and walk?"

"I think so, but I fear not very well. Perhaps you should leave me here after all…." The despair crept back into his voice. She stopped him more brusquely than she meant, but she could not let him lapse into hopelessness now.

"Nonsense! Sand and Elanee stocked me up with more than enough healing tonics to get you on your feet. Here." She handed him several of the small bottles, which he obligingly drank. He felt some of his strength begin to return.

"Here are clean clothes, and gear." she said, handing them to him. "I brought lightweight things, as heavier gear might slow us down."

For the first time since he had left her quarters the morning before the battle all those months ago, she saw his lips lift at the corners, just a bit. It was possibly the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. He nodded gratefully, both for her thoughtfulness in remembering how he loathed being filthy, and for not pointing out that he could not have managed heavier gear. He paused, looking at her. He was weak, filthy, and still, so far, in a prison cell, but suddenly, he had hope. His lady was a miracle, he was certain of it.

Turning to dress, he noticed she busied herself with her own gear, giving him privacy. He hoped it was because she knew he would feel very awkward in his present condition, and not because that condition was so distasteful to her that she could not bear to look; he knew he was a disgrace, a shadow of his former self. She could not possibly think him worthy of her now…. One obstacle at a time, he reminded himself, unknowingly echoing her earlier thoughts.

They piled his rags on the squalid cot so it would appear he was sleeping. As they crept out, Raewyn removed the string from the lock, relocked it, and shoved the string into a crack in the flagstones. There was no evidence she had been here, and until his captors realized his rations were going uneaten (which Raewyn judged could be quite some time, based on the stench of the place), his absence should not be noticed. If they could avoid running directly into any wandering guards they should be able to exit without raising any alarms. She worried for a moment about whomever or whatever had been tormenting him in his cell, since the lock had not been opened, indicating something had come and gone without opening the door, but decided there was nothing to be done for it, so she dismissed it. With that they were on their way.

They almost made it to the drainage tunnel that Raewyn had marked for their exit. Their progress had been painfully slow through the massive prison, and as they had reached the lower levels, they began to relax a little. They were only a few rooms away from the tunnel's access when Raewyn came face to face with a guard.

Both froze. Behind Raewyn, Casavir heard her stop, and halted in the shadows behind her, far enough away that the guard had not seen him. He stayed stock-still, afraid to move lest he make the situation worse, but frantic over the danger she was in.

Raewyn and the guard stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Raewyn was oddly aware of the details of the man's face. He was young, scarcely more than a boy, his chin barely marked with an uncertain dusting of ruddy hair. Raewyn desperately didn't want to have to kill him, but she knew she couldn't allow him to reveal their presence. It would need to be quiet, and quick, before he alerted others.

Thinking fast, she put on a coquettish smile. "Hi, there. You're a lot cuter than the guard who let me in. He wouldn't even show me the way." Conjuring the image of Ohpala in her mind, she pouted at him "...and now I'm lost." The young man stared at her in confusion, looking like he might bolt for help at any moment. She stepped in closer, running her finger over the contours of his leather armor. "If you could help me find the way, I'd be so very, very, grateful..."

The guard remained cautious, but he was definitely hooked. "Uh...where is it you're going, er, ma'am?"

"Why the warden's quarters, of course." she simpered. "Usually they send Sally, but she wasn't feeling well, so they sent me. Can you show me the way?"

"Well, I'd have to check with..."

"But then we won't have time for me to show you how much I appreciate your help. I can't be late to the warden, you know." She snaked an arm around his neck, purring in his ear. "Don't you want a little something special?"

The guard nodded mutely, entirely enthralled by Raewyn's performance. His hands groped around her back as she reached down as if she was loosening her clothes. Instead, her hand slid a narrow dagger from its sheath at her back.

She struck true thanks to another bit of Neeshka's tutelage, her dagger sliding into the side of his neck, severing arteries, esophagus and vocal cords in one deadly strike. The boy's eyes popped, looking at Raewyn in shocked incomprehension before he slid to the floor with nothing more than the rustle of his leathers.

Raewyn stood there, looking down at the boy she had just murdered in cold blood. Casavir stepped to her and took her shoulders, turning her away from the body.

"My lady! Are you all right?" Worry tinged his voice, but as Raewyn looked up at him, her face was blank.

"He was just a boy. I...I didn't want to kill him."

"You had no choice, Raewyn. We must go"

At that she shook herself. She would contend with her horror of the boy's death later. Now they had to get out. Every moment they lingered they risked discovery. She looked back at the body, realizing they would have to dispose of it; if the dead guard was found that would also spur a search. They could not afford to risk it.

Glancing around, she saw a pile of rubbish, from which protruded a length of filthy canvas. Yanking it free of the rest of the debris, she laid it on the floor beside the guard, and rolled him into it. There was nowhere to put the bundle, except to take it into the tunnel with them. Raewyn shuddered, thankful the guard had been thin. Wrestling a larger man into the tunnel would have been beyond her, and she knew Casavir's strength was limited by his months of imprisonment.

Hefting the bundle between them, the entered the tunnel through the massive grate, and began their long, dark descent.


	38. Chapter 38: The Journey Home

Their escape was tense, smelly, and rather disgusting at times. Exiting any building via its sewage system would be disgusting no matter; Blackrock Prison being the most vile collection of stones standing in Faerûn only added insult to injury. After they'd disposed of the guard, however, their escape was uneventful. Raewyn had stashed a small Mirabarran trader's wagon and matching clothing in a dense patch of woods not far from the prison, which they reached without incident.

From there, they skirted the suburbs of Luskan and headed for some of the less travelled roads leading south towards Neverwinter. Raewyn had stocked plenty of water in the wagon, and Casavir was quick to indulge in a hasty bath. They dressed in the rather garish clothing she had brought. Traders from Mirabar were known for their colorful attire. Casavir was attired in a deep blue doublet trimmed with red, and scarlet trews, this being the most somber outfit she was able to procure. Raewyn thought the blue at least suited him, but refrained from saying so. She herself had a long full skirt of green and a red bodice trimmed with yellow.

Taking pains to establish their identity as traders, they stopped at a few towns along the way to rest, resupply, and listen for news of an escape. As it happened, no one had heard anything about an escaped prisoner, or a Neverwinter agent sneaking about Luskan. They even earned a few coppers from the wares Raewyn with which had stocked the trader's wagon.

After the first few uneasy days in the shadow of Luskan, they began to relax, and while they didn't speak of the war, or Casavir's imprisonment, they started to enjoy the trip. It was unusual for both of them to be traveling without a pressing cause, without any military or political concerns. They set an easy pace, and lived in the moment. They went long silent hours on the road just enjoying each other's company and the lushness of the land, and when they spoke, it was of small things.

The nights though, were different. Casavir was haunted by nightmares, and after his cries of terror awoke several other travelers in one of the inns at which they had stopped, more often than not they slept in the open. The mild nights of early summer made doing so no hardship, and Casavir seemed to sleep a little easier under the sky. Some nights Raewyn would curl herself beside him as she had in the weeks before the battle, and he would lie much of the night just holding her close and watching her sleep by the light of the stars. Others, he would toss and turn, muttering, cursing, and shouting in his inner torment, and Raewyn would cradle his head on her breast or in her lap, murmuring softly to him, smoothing his brow, and chasing away the demons which ravaged his dreams as best she could.

Still, with every day, it seemed they both healed. Once safely clear of Luskan's borders, Raewyn had sent a message ahead to Sir Nevalle that she had succeeded and they were on the way home. But both knew their return would mean changes and duties and responsibilities however, so neither was in a hurry to return to Crossroad Keep.

At one small town they entered, they found they had arrived just in time for a local faire. Given the numbers of people camping all around, they chose to find lodging at the inn. After stowing their wagon, they wandered the town green watching the dancers, sharing some of the local delicacies, and enjoying the festive atmosphere. Raewyn was happy to see Casavir relaxed as she had rarely seen him, but she could see the shadow that still lingered behind his eyes.

"This is why we do it, isn't it?"

He looked a her quizzically. "My lady?"

"Why we serve Neverwinter, what we fight for. It isn't the Castle, or the Council, or the Lords. We do it so…." She looked around pointing to the villagers as she spoke. "We do it so that young girl there can steal a kiss from the blacksmith's son. We do it so those little boys can play knights and bandits, and hopefully never know what it's really like to fell a man with a blade. We do it so she can weave, and he can play the pipes at the faire."

She turned to him, willing him to see as she did in that moment: all the simple truths of life, from the ribbons swirling in the breeze to the flutter of notes from lute and pipe, all gilded by the late afternoon sun. She took his hands and smiled at him. "This is the heart and soul of the land, any land. This is what Neverwinter is, it's the smell of those pies, the clatter of that spinning wheel, the couples dancing…."

He followed her gaze around the village, and he could almost see it, the shadows that haunted him receding to the very farthest corners of his mind; not gone, but distant. When she took his hands, his heart swelled. She filled him with an aching longing he didn't know how to express. He loved her, he thought perhaps he always had, even before she'd appeared to raise him from his self-imposed exile at Old Owl Well.

While he'd been in Blackrock, he'd recalled and relived every tender moment they shared, even the distant yearning looks from their earliest days together. But he'd never imagined being with her again; to look for a future from within Blackrock was a torment his soul could not bear. Yet now, against all reason, here he was, free and at Raewyn's side once more. And he wanted more than anything to step into the light she offered, yet chains of darkness seemed to hold him back. He wanted her, her love, her smile….

While he'd been lost in thought, Raewyn had watched the struggle play over his features. She knew the road home from Blackrock would take more than the miles beneath their feet, and she was determined to bring him home, whole and hers.

On impulse, she grabbed his hand and drew him toward the square where the villagers were dancing a merry reel, and pulled him into the swirl of skirts and scarves. Casavir was too surprised to have the time to protest before they found themselves in the midst of the dancers, and one look at Raewyn's laughing eyes stopped his sour objections in his throat. He was powerless to resist her, not when she was laughing and carefree, radiant with her love for him. He was dazzled by her. For today, at least, he could believe in hope.

Around they whirled, until the last 'huzzah' of the tune left them standing face to face, arms interlocked, mere inches between them. Raewyn's face glowed and her breath came quick from the exertion of the dance, reminding Casavir of their last dance, so very long ago. They froze, eyes locked, before Raewyn kissed him, softly, quickly, a question and a promise. Casavir let himself drown in her gaze, feeling dizzy from the spinning, from her nearness, from the very strangeness of feeling so lighthearted. She took his hand and whispered in his ear "Let's go, Casavir." As if in a dream, he followed as she led him back to the inn. As they half-walked half-ran, they looked at each other more than where they were going, and Raewyn was giggling by the time they made it back to the small room they shared.

The moment they entered, Raewyn closed the door behind them. She stood before him, gazing up at him with longing in her eyes. After a moment she raised herself up on tiptoe and kissed him. He froze a moment, then his arms tightened around her and he returned her kiss with passion that left her breathless. He clutched her to him like a lifeline, the only thing holding him from the abyss. His hands roved over her back, pulling her to him as he plundered her mouth with his own. She whimpered softly, tangling her fingers in his hair; after so long, she was desperate to get closer to him. His hand slipped up under her shirt, stroking the skin of her back, his feather touches sending shockwaves through her body. His lips left hers and traveled to her earlobe, his breath in her ear making her shiver with delight. He continued to place soft open mouthed kisses down the side of her neck while his hands moved further up her back before sliding around her side. When his caresses reached the curve of her breast she gasped out his name before pulling his mouth back to hers for another searing kiss.

He pulled back suddenly, and she stared at him, breathless, molten desire in her eyes. She moved to kiss him again and he pulled away. He remembered all that he had struggled with, all the horrors of Blackrock flooding his mind. He broke away from her, and with a muttered apology he fled, leaving her alone.

She watched him go with sorrow, but little surprise. She knew he had never become fully at ease with the powerful desire they shared, still mistrustful of his less rational, more passionate side. It was that deep internal conflict that had kept the paladin from her for so long during the time leading up the the defeat of the Shadow King. And while they had not yet spoken of his time in Blackrock, she could surmise from his words when she first found him that the experiences had played upon his deepest fears and regrets. She had known for a long time that she loved him, and waited almost as long to have him back at her side, whole and free. She could wait a little longer.

It was three days after the faire that they topped the rise a few miles from Crossroad Keep. It was late, and they were yet beyond the range of Raewyn's own patrols, so they chose to sleep one last night under the stars. They hadn't spoken about the faire, or of Blackrock, but Raewyn sensed Casavir wanted to talk about something.

"My lady," he began, "I am sorry for my behavior at the faire. It was unseemly of me."

She waited, not entirely sure if he was referring to their passion, or his flight from it.

"And while I could never regret the...gift you gave me in the days before…." he broke off, and she nodded her understanding and for him to continue.

"I think it would be better if we did not… if such a thing did not…. if our relationship remained... To remain at your side means more to me than anything, and I do not wish to compromise that in any way. I am not worthy of you in the least, but as long as my arm will hold a weapon and my legs shall carry me, I will serve you as best I can, so long as you will allow me. But I would rather return to that cell than...fail you...in my...weakness." He stared into the fire miserably, refusing to meet her eyes. After a moment he added, "My heart is yours, and always has been, but…I can't..."

"Casavir, nothing must be decided this night. There is, as far as I know, no pressing cause we must leap to answer, you are not yet fully recovered…" she held up a hand to forestal his objection "...and you will not be serving at all until you are. I will doubtless be buried in things to attend to after my absence…."

He looked at her, unsure what she was getting at. Uncertainty was written across his handsome features. "My lady?"

"I am saying that there is time, Casavir. We need not inscribe the way our future must run this very moment. There is time to rest, time to heal, time to see what may yet become between you and I. You have just come from a long, dark journey. Let your eyes adjust to the light. Leave it be what it is for now, and just be by my side. Only…." she hesitated.

"Only what, my lady?"

"Just please do not close your mind to anything, do not discard feelings because you do not yet know quite how to live with them. Be willing to rediscover possibilities, to allow that it may be possible, that I may yet win back my _Katalmach_ once more? Please?" Her voice sounded small and uncertain, and she disliked the feeling. She knew he needed time, but in his voice she heard his walls going up again, and she didn't think she could bear to lose him to his own doubts.

He looked away, sorrow and weariness in every line of his posture. "Very well, my lady, I will try to...maintain an open mind."

"Thank you. Come now, rest well, for tomorrow we shall be busy indeed."

"Very well, my lady." he said again, offering her a tentative smile this time.

That night they both slept soundly, wrapped in each others' arms. When morning broke, they rose and readied themselves for their return at last.

Raewyn took Casavir's hand, and said "Come, my paladin, let me take you home"


	39. Chapter 39: The Passing of Days

Once the furor of their return died down, Casavir slowly settled into a routine at the Keep. He resumed a minimal level of service in the Temple of Tyr, but more importantly, he became good friends with Ivarr, the resident priest. Ivarr tended to hold a more forgiving view of the demands that real life placed upon Tyr's warriors. This was a welcome contrast to the sort of rigorous teachings that had tormented Casavir and many other paladins when faced with the unpredictable caprices of a warrior's life outside the temple. Ivarr challenged him to consider his emotions and his humanity as a source of strength rather than a weakness.

His full strength returned quickly with a vigorous regimen of training, something Raewyn took a certain guilty pleasure in observing as often as she could spare the time to do so. She had always known he was a skilled and graceful warrior, but now, free of the dangers of battle, she found he possessed a powerful grace that was almost mesmerizing to behold. She savored watching him, even though it did little to make his continued hesitation to resume their relationship any easier to bear.

It was this that first gave Raewyn an idea as to a permanent role for Casavir at the Keep. She knew he would soon turn restive without a purpose to which to turn his energies. The demanding standards she had set for training her Graycloaks had impressed Lord Nasher, and he frequently sent units to Crossroad Keep for advanced training. She enlisted Casavir to oversee that training.

As she had hoped, this was an area in which the paladin excelled, his own passion for excellence and dedication to duty serving as example and inspiration for the men who came to train here. Casavir for his part, seemed to take real satisfaction in training men who would not fall prey to the kind of corruption and greed that had made his own service in Neverwinter untenable for him. Raewyn came to rely heavily upon Casavir as an integral part of the Keep. Kana was only too happy to turn the bulk of the training over to the paladin, and focus her attention on managing the patrols of the nearby trade roads and farmland.

Alongside his duties as Master of Arms, Casavir's years of training and experience became one of Raewyn's most valuable assets, and she often sought his counsel on matters large and small. They also, with time, regained some of the easy friendship they had begun to build before his capture, if not yet the intimacy Raewyn so longed for. Most mornings found them together in her study, sharing tea and discussing the business of the day. And most evenings found them dining together in her quarters, discussing everything else. She had discovered Casavir's scholarly side in the early days at the Keep, his excitement at the restoration of the library coming a near second to Aldanon's own. But there had been little time for such things then. Since their return, she had found that the paladin had made the time to indulge his studious side, and she was again glad of Daeghun's insistence on her own education.

She entered one evening to find him deeply engrossed in a volume of plays by a writer from the far edge of the Anauroch desert.

"You enjoy Kalin's work?" she asked him, surprised. "I always found her to be rather stiff, and a bit on the verbose side. Of the Anauroch playwrights, I've always preferred Dakari; are you familiar with him?"

He looked up at her in mock astonishment. "My lady, I was not aware that West Harbor possessed a library." She smirked at his teasing tone.

"Ah, no it did not, but Daeghun must certainly did, and he was most determined to pack its entire contents into my skull! How I fought him over it! He despaired of me being anything other than an unlettered cretin. But some of it seems to have stuck, so if you wish to discuss literature, or history, or philosophy, I will try to keep up!"

He also told her, slowly, over those long days of summer, what had befallen him after the others had leapt through the portal, his capture and condemnation by the Luskans, and transport to Blackrock. The account of the torments he endured there took longer, but eventually he told her of the mind-flayers, wraiths, and magics turned upon him by his Luskan captors, hoping to wrest information from him, and then seemingly content merely to torment him. Haltingly, he recounted how the spells and potions had opened his mind to illusion, and how the wraiths and demons had read his deepest fears only to manifest them before his eyes. Every failure, feared or real, played out around him. Every loss, every rejection, every fear, especially the loss, as he grudgingly admitted, of Raewyn herself, was made real before him while he remained helpless to do anything. Over and over, Raewyn herself died in his arms, cast him aside, mocked him from Bishop's embrace, killed him with her bare hands….a thousand nightmares playing over and over, endlessly.

As difficult as it was for him to tell her, it was nearly as hard for Raewyn to hear, and she knew there was more he did not share. She heard in his voice the seeds of torment he had suffered long before they met, as well as the lingering doubts he had harbored over his feelings for her, his passion especially. They had used his love for her, his insecurities, and his fear of losing her to try and dismantle his mind, and it was this that kept him from her now. But unburdening himself seemed to help him. Over the weeks, the shadow behind his eyes began to fade, and his smile, ever elusive, began to appear more often.

Then the messenger arrived.


	40. Chapter 40 : Knight Captain's Conundrum

It was a lazy early autumn morning, and Raewyn and Casavir had carried their tea to the battlement to enjoy the golden sunlight as it burned away the mists from the sleeping farmland. Raewyn was thinking of the first time they had spoken on these battlements. She loved Casavir with all her heart, and she treasured his company. She knew that if she pushed him too hard too fast, she could lose him. But she had begun to feel it was time to speak with Casavir again about what they had shared. If she was being truthful, she didn't know how much longer she could stand their platonic relationship. She longed for him more with every passing day, and her nights were becoming a nearly unbearable torment of erotic dreams and frustrated desires. She was determined to win back her lover, as she had her champion and friend.

It was not to be that day, however. Kana appeared on the battlement seeking Raewyn's decision on something, soon followed by Bevil. When Khelgar and Nevalle turned up looking for Casavir and Kana respectively, the Knight Captain laughingly surrendered her wish for privacy and asked the kitchen staff to send up an early lunch and some tables. Her re-courting of Casavir would wait another day, she supposed. She met his eyes with a warm smile.

"I am so glad you are here at my side, Casavir. I..." She stopped short; it was not yet time.

"And I am honored to be beside you, as always." His words were formal, but he smiled as he spoke. But he noticed the shadow that flitted across her face at his words. He knew she loved him as she had before, and his heart was glad of it. He longed for her, but the memories of Blackrock still loomed before him. He resolved to speak of it soon.

It wasn't long before they had finished all the business at hand. The meeting had taken on the air of a garden party when one of the Graycloaks appeared. To his credit, the young sergeant's announcement of a messenger from Lord Nasher was delivered in a manner which suggested there was nothing at all unusual in finding most of the senior staff of the Keep picnicking on the battlements. The messenger himself was less successful at concealing his surprise, but recovered reasonably quickly.

"Milady, I bear a personal message from Lord Nasher. It is most urgent and to be delivered to you _alone_." His emphasis on the final word was not lost on Raewyn, and she assured him that any such message could be delivered in the present company.

"Very well then," he replied, making it quite clear what he though of this breach of propriety. "Lord Nasher wishes me to express his pleasure at the safe recovery of Casavir of Tyr, and sends his thanks to same for his outstanding service in training of the Graycloak units sent here for that purpose."

Here the messenger paused for a dramatic breath, wherein everyone present took the chance to raise a toast to Casavir, who simply looked uncomfortable at the attention. Seemingly irritated that his dramatic rhythm had been disrupted, the messenger cleared his throat loudly and resumed.

"To Knight Captain Thorne Farlong, Lord Nasher requests that you depart to Neverwinter at once, to meet with him and the Council to discuss plans for the eventual succession of the Lordship of Crossroad Keep. Salutations and honors, etcetera and so forth. Good day."

With a final disparaging glance at the assembled company, the messenger left in with an audible huff and swirl of cape. Raewyn stared after him, thunderstruck. Succession? Silence reigned for a full minute as she, along with her friends and companions, processed out the implications of the messenger's words.

It was Bevin who finally broke the silence, asking "Raewyn, does this mean you're getting married?"

There was an immediate uproar as everyone began talking at once. Raewyn sat silent for a moment, trying to massage out the beginnings of a fierce headache before standing and yelling "Stop it, all of you!"

She paused a moment, then added. "As far as I am aware, no, I am most certainly not getting married, nor do I currently have any plans to do so. And if Lord Nasher thinks otherwise, I will be more than happy to disabuse him of the notion!"

'Damn Nasher, springing this on me now, when Casavir has finally begun to thaw!' It dawned on her then that the partly-thawed someone in question was missing, having slipped out during the uproar.

"Where the hell did Casavir go?"

She finally found him in one of the training rooms, steadily dismantling a practice dummy, one of nearly a dozen which already lay in fragments around him. She took a deep breath before entering.

"I didn't know we were at war again," she tried for levity. Casavir paused only long enough to fix her with an withering glare before resuming his methodical murder of the targets.

"Casavir, I honestly don't have any idea what all this is about, and I swear to you, I never saw it coming. But I will fix it, it doesn't have to change anything…."

"My lady does not need to explain herself to those in her service." he interrupted flatly, without missing a sword-stroke.

"Dammit, Casavir, don't do this! You know full well you are not just someone 'in my service,' and yes, I do have to explain!"

"I thought you knew nothing of it. Is there indeed something to explain then?" he shot back.

"No, of course not! I only meant… Hells, can you stop that for a moment, please?" The headache which had threatened earlier had manifested in full force. She felt as if the entire Ironfist smithy had been transported into her skull, and Casavir's bashing only made it worse.

"As you command, Knight Captain." He stood stock still at attention before her, as unreadable and closed as he had been the day they met. She sighed, aching to see him so.

"I am going to find out what this is about, and I will..._we_ will figure it out. Nothing has changed, Casavir." She pleaded with him, anguished to see his face so closed to her once more.

"I hope you arrive at a satisfactory _solution_, my lady." It wasn't quite a snarl, but his emphasis made his feelings on the matter clear.

"Casavir, please just remember what you promised me the night before we returned. That is one promise to which I will hold you. I love you, never forget that...I beg you, my love, my _Katalmach_, do not give up on me…."

He had no reply, though her use of the love name she had called him before his capture was a blade in his heart. But Casavir knew how the mechanisms of Neverwinter's government worked. He knew how this would end, and he was certain that ending held no place for him.

She left then, preferring to retreat than have him see her tears. They had braved so much, fought through so much together. She had wrested him first from Old Owl Well, then from his own fears, and finally from Blackrock and its lingering torments. He had begun to find true peace, the walls between them had finally begun to vanish. Damn Nasher! He was going to fix this, or he could take his damn Keep and….

She left at first light, having spoken to Kana the night before. She had not seen Casavir the rest of the previous evening, and she turned to look for him before she rode beneath the gate. Not finding him, she pulled up her hood and set off at a gallop. Unseen by her, Casavir stood on the battlement watching her go.

"Ye don't give the lass enough credit, tin-can. Yer a paladin, no? Ye must have faith."

Casavir turned to the dwarf. "Her affairs are not my concern. I serve at her side no matter."

"Ha!" came the barking reply. "None of yer concern, is it? And they say paladins canna lie. Or is it only that lies to yourself don't count, lad?"

The taller man remained there, looking out over the fields long after the Ironfist had left.

She returned two weeks later from Neverwinter, went straight into the Keep, and immediately called Kana, Bevil, and Nevalle in to her study. An hour later, they emerged, leaving her within, where she remained for nearly two days.

Casavir knew the moment she returned. He did not really expect her to call for him, but her failure to do so still stung more than he wanted to admit. He tried not to ask. Tried even not to care, to focus solely on his duties, his prayers. The opaque answers he received to his sidelong inquiries only served to infuriate him further. Finally, when he felt he would burst, he swallowed his pride and went seeking Kana. She, at least, would give him a straight answer to the best of her ability. He met her heading toward the training grounds.

"Kana. I am sorry to ask, but I must know…."

"As it happens, the Knight Captain has asked to see you. I was just coming to let you know."

He sighed heavily. "Very well, I will go to her study now."

"She is waiting for you on the battlements, sir."

That brought him up short. "The battlements?"

"Yes, sir."

It normally took him five minutes to walk from the training ground to the battlements. Today, it took him much longer. If he was being honest, he dreaded this meeting. Whatever news she would have, he was certain it would crush him, and her choice of meeting place was not without significance. He wondered briefly if he should just pack his things and leave quietly, but he discarded the idea almost immediately. He had done that once. Whatever the cost, he would see this through. Even if he left her side, though his heart twisted at the thought, he would do so openly. Even if she broke his heart, he owed her that much.

He stopped in the archway at the top of the stairs leading to the battlements. She stood looking out over the fields beyond the keep, the wind playing with her hair and the evening sun setting it ablaze with gold and red fire. She took his breath away. He paused a long moment, drinking in the sight of her. He felt a surge of longing so deep it staggered him, and he leaned on the archway to steady himself. He loved her with all his being, and he feared he had waited too long. He didn't know how he would survive if he lost her.

"I know you are there, Casavir."

"I apologize my lady, I meant no disrespect."

"None taken, _Katalmach_."

The name squeezed his heart, for when she had taken to calling him that before his capture, it symbolized his journey from a passion for death into the passion he had shared with her. She had not done so again until shortly before messenger from Nasher had shattered their hard-won peace, and he did not know why she did so now. He stepped to stand beside her in silence. He tried to keep his voice level once he finally got the courage to voice the question that burned in him.

"Did you arrive at a solution to the problem before you in your council with Lord Nasher?" He was grimly pleased his voice only shook a little.

Raewyn heard the tight control in his words, but she was unsure what they meant. As she'd ridden home from Neverwinter, she'd wrestled with how to approach Casavir with what she had managed to negotiate with Lord Nasher. She hoped the outcome would please the paladin, but there was so much still unspoken and unresolved between them. For the hundredth time, if not the thousandth, she cursed Nasher for his timing. She took a deep breath and spoke.

"Yes, I did. It seems I am to be married after all; that is, if the groom is willing."

"Indeed." Even knowing this would be the answer, pain lanced through him to hear it. He longed to drop to his knees before her, to declare his love for her, beg her not to do this, to be his, only his….but it seemed he had indeed waited too long. "And who is the knight who will be so favored?"

"He is not a knight, at least not at present, though his service to Neverwinter has been long." She looked down at her hand, rubbing her thumb absently over the scar he had given her. She was calmer than he would have expected. Perhaps she had not cared for him as she once had? It could be his fear was justified, that her devotion to him had been born of uncertainty and need of his sword rather than love. Perhaps she had been repulsed by his passions? Or maybe she had never loved him as he did her?

"As it happens, my bridegroom will be made a Knight of Neverwinter on the eve of our marriage. Lord Nasher himself is coming here to attend the nuptials, and to confer his knighthood upon him."

"I see." came the strangled response. Casavir knew quite a bit of the workings of the Neverwinter Court, and was not sure which was worse, the thought of her wedded to some aged, bellicose Knight to whom Nasher owed a favor, or the thought of her handed off to some pimple-faced youngling, doubtless the son of some corrupt noble with sufficient wealth to be able to arrange such a match for a simpering eldest son unable to succeed on his own merits. He clenched his fists behind him, his voice hoarse with rage and anguish despite his best efforts to keep his tone level.

"I have not kept current on the nobility in the city. Who is this young squire soon to be so honored?"

"There is more yet to tell, Casavir." Her own voice was oddly expressionless. "My bridegroom is also to be made one of the Nine. Lord Nasher is of the opinion that this man's service has been exemplary in all respects, and that none, even candidates among those already knighted, is more worthy of the highest honor Neverwinter can accord. And I could not agree more."

With that she turned to him at last. "My husband will be stationed here, and stand by my side as Lord of Crossroad Keep, a title we will pass to our children."

He could stand silent no more. "Why are you telling me this, my lady? Have I offended you? Do you intend to use this news as a weapon to punish me for some transgression? Do you wish me to leave? I know we have not spoken of it, to my eternal sorrow, but certainly you must know what these words do to me?"

She did not answer at once, again unsure. While she struggled for words, he dropped to his knee before her.

"My lady, send me away, give me some assignment far from here. Allow me to leave with what honor I have left. I have sworn I would serve you while I have breath in me, and I will never leave your service unless you dismiss me, but I beg of you, do not ask me to remain here. I cannot. Better you had left me in Blackrock!" His despair was tinged with anger now. For all his failings, he had tried, by all the gods, and he had thought she cared for him at least enough to spare him this.

"I will let you leave with honor if you wish, of course..." His heart fell. In spite of himself, he had hoped for some objection from her, never imagined she would simply send him off after everything. "...but it will be an odd wedding indeed if the groom is absent."

"What? What are you talking about?" What did his being here have to do with the bridegroom?

She grasped his hands and pulled him to his feet. His eyes remained lowered, so she reached and tilted his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze.

"Casavir, I am sorry if you do not wish this, but you must know that I will never want nor allow anyone else but you by my side. Nasher tried to trade me off to some doddering old sot of a kinght, but I refused. I told him I would accept no one but you."

"You...refused Lord Nasher? For me?" he stared at her, stunned, then looked away. "I did not know you were so reckless, or so foolish." Now he knew what had happened. She had charged in to Nasher's audience as she did into battle, only the old fox had outmatched her. Casavir knew enough of politics to know that she, as one of the Nine herself, would never be allowed to wed an outcast oath-breaker like him, no matter how impressive her achievements, or his. So Nasher had forced her to his will, and she would be sold off like a prize mare to some mewling boy in order for Nasher to make good on a political transaction.

"Yes, I refused him." Foolish? A frisson of fear cut through her. Did he mean her defiance of Nasher was foolish, or that she was a fool to think he would want the role she had negotiated for him? They had never discussed whether he might someday seek restoration to his knighthood; perhaps he wanted none of it after all. Maybe he wanted none of marriage to her. After all, he had fled her kiss at the faire, and said he didn't want a to go back to what they had shared before. Certainly he had never made even the smallest attempt to reopen the possibilities between them….. Still, she had truly believed he loved her still, and they would, in time, becomes as close as they had been. Perhaps she had pushed too far?

"My lady, you must know you would never be allowed to marry below your station, no matter your birthplace or how you came to it. You could only a be wed to a knight. And never could anyone without rank...especially one disgraced" his voice was bitter. "...share the holding of this keep…"

"Yes, of course I know that. Which is why I told Nasher that if he did not wish to lose both the Knight Captain of Crossroad Keep _and_ the best Master of Arms in Faerûn, he would have to fully reinstate you as a Knight of Neverwinter. I also told him that if he wanted to give credit where credit was due, you deserved to be one of the Nine more than I ever did."

"You are insane! Such a thing could never be!" He was baffled at what she was trying to tell him.

"I may be insane, but as it happens, Nasher had planned on reinstating you and making you one of the Nine entirely apart from his plans for me. You absolutely deserve this honor, Casavir; no one more. I would like to say I had won this for you, but you alone have earned it with your sword and your heart. He wouldn't have overlooked my going on an insane rescue mission for someone he considered a traitor, after all."

She paused, feeling more uncertain by the moment. "However, he had planned on stationing you to the northwest border. When he realized he could get everything he wanted merely by sending the old sot off to the border instead, and letting you stay here, he was most agreeable." In her nervousness, she resorted to a tense attempt at humor. "I don't think he liked the old codger anyway; he seemed almost happy to be able to send him to the hinterlands."

Casavir was speechless. In the space of an afternoon, what he had thought was the end of everything he cared for and a blow from which he would never recover had become more than he had ever hoped for. It wasn't the rank or the honors that mattered; he would have been content with anything so long as he remained Raewyn's side. No, what mattered was that he could wed her, fully, honorably, and stand beside her in this Keep she had rebuilt, which it seemed she was born to care for.

"All I need to do now, is ask the Knight if he will have me." Her voice was suddenly very small.

Raewyn had thought Casavir would be willing, even hoped that he would be thrilled, but he had not yet said so. He had, in point of fact, called her a fool, and said she was insane. She shivered, wondering again if she had been tragically mistaken about his feelings. What if she had been wrong?

"Casavir, if you don't want this…I mean, I thought…but if you don't…"

He remained silent, staring out over the landscape, and pain twisted inside her.

"Oh, hells, Casavir, I'm so sorry. I never meant to try to manipulate you into something. I was so angry with Nasher for forcing my hand, I panicked, and tried to find the best solution I could. I'm sorry. I have no right to use you to avoid Nasher's plans, but I just assumed you would want this, too. If you don't, then just say so..." Her voice broke, and she blinked back the tears that flowed freely down her cheeks.

How could she have been so selfish, maneuvering Casavir into this when she wasn't even sure he wanted her; when in fact, he had done everything he could to avoid her advances. By the gods, she really was a fool!

"I will send word to Nasher that you would prefer to go to the North, that you don't want...don't want me…"

"Raewyn." Casavir cut her off, his voice ragged, and she stopped short at her name, so rare coming from his lips. He took her hands in his. "My lady, you mistake my silence." He stopped, having gone from not knowing what to say to having too much and not knowing where to begin.

"When you found me, I was broken, despair was all I knew. You were right when you said I had gone to the Well to seek my end in the oblivion of battle. You brought me back to life, back to sanity. You showed me how to be human, how to feel, how to hope. You showed me that I could love. You showed me I could know passion and not lose myself. You made me whole again. You have held my heart since the first day I looked on you and saw home in your eyes. And when I was lost, you came for me, and pulled me from the darkness. I am yours, sword, heart, body, and soul. I will always be yours. Once I said I was not worthy of you, and I may not be still. But your love has made me worthy. I love you with all that I am, Raewyn Thorne, and until you send me away, I will _never_ leave your side. To call you my own, to stand beside you in law as well as love..." his voice failed him with a harsh gasp.

"Is that a yes, my _Katalmach_?"

"Yes, beloved. For you, I will never have anything but yes."

"Casavir, my beloved, you may think I saved you, but you have always saved me. It is your love that has made me worthy. You are my soul, you are my life, you are my heart. I will always love you."

He took her in his arms then, and tilting her chin up, he claimed her mouth, claimed her, his beloved, fully, finally, without reservation.

"There is nothing that can stand against us when we are together…."

"...In this life or the next."

Her arms wrapped around him, and she returned his kiss.

* * *

A.N.: For all intents and purposes the tale could end here. Naturally, I cannot leave well enough alone, and having conjured a ghost in our poor dear paladin, I cannot rest until it is banished. The epilogue that follows relates how Casavir must finally, once and for all, confront and finally defeat all of his fears. He will not do so alone, of course, but it will be a harrowing journey. Read on...


	41. Epilogue: The Shadow of Blackrock

A.N.: WARNING: This chapter fully reinstates the M rating! It will end happily, but it will be rough going. This epliogue contains some very dark themes, including violence, mention of rape, and some highly questionable pop-psychology!

* * *

Raewyn woke to see the sun streaming into her chamber and realized she'd overslept. She bounded out of bed and rushed to her clothespress. She and Casavir were to go scouting, and she was looking forward to spending the day alone with him. Since the announcement of their engagement, she'd hardly had a moment alone with him, and her desire for him remained as unfulfilled as before. She grabbed her riding clothes and threw them on her bed. She had just turned to her washstand when the door opened. Casavir stepped in.

"Good morning my lady. I hope you are…." He stopped short as he saw Raewyn, clad only in a light shift. The morning sun was behind her, making her glow like an angel, and he could see every curve of her body through the thin cotton. His mouth went dry, and he flushed, his heart racing.

She stared at him, wide eyed, seeing his eyes rake down her body before returning to her face. They stood, staring at each other, both of them breathless. Raewyn was certain she wasn't imagining the heat in his eyes. She stepped closer to him, and he closed the door behind him. He met her in the middle of the room.

"Casavir," she breathed.

"My lady…." he put his hands gently on her arms, stepping close enough to smell the perfume of her hair. She tilted her chin up to meet his eyes. He bent his head slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. Desire flooded her and her breath came fast and shallow as she awaited his kiss. His lips met hers in a gentle cares, heartbreaking in its sweetness. She whimpered in her throat and wrapped her arms around him. He drew her near, his hands moving down her back to pull her closer to his body.

He broke off the kiss, looking at her nervously. She smiled up at him before reaching up to kiss him again, seeing his lips curve in an answering smile before they covered hers. The kiss began as tenderly as the last, until Raewyn traced Casavir's lips with her tongue, begging entrance. He opened to her, deepening the kiss, and her whimper became a moan.

He returned the kiss with increasing passion, now forcing her mouth open to plunder it hungrily. His arms tightened around her and he grasped her bottom, crushing her against him. Raewyn growled low in her throat when she felt his hardness against her.

She moaned, her own hands roaming his back, his shoulders. In two swift strides, he had her pinned against the wall as his hands moved to her front, kneading her breasts. His mouth moved to her ear, her neck, his hard sucking kisses making her see stars.

The suddenness of his passion had her reeling, and answering need burned like fire in her veins. She untucked his shirt and slid her hands beneath it, needing to feel him, to feel his warmth, the hardness of muscle clothed in the silk of his skin. Her nails grazed his hipbones as she struggled with his breeches, frantic to free him. He growled as his erection sprang free, his hips grinding against her, feeling her moist heat through the thin cloth of her shift.

He lifted her up, his hands skimming up her legs, drawing her shift up to bundle at her waist. He grabbed her thighs and wrapping her legs around his hips, he captured her mouth again. She met his kiss with equal hunger, but as she felt his hardness grind against her center, her mouth fell away from his with a gasp. He lifted her, his fingers grasping her thighs with bruising force, and brought her down hard onto his waiting cock.

She cried out with shock and pleasure, her nails raking his shoulders, leaving bright red welts. Casavir growled in her ear, and held her hips pinned to the wall as he pistoned into her. Her shoulders ground against the stone behind her, but she didn't care. She was aware only of Casavir, his body plundering hers, every inch of her ablaze in the heat that sang between them. Her body shook as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her, all the months of longing for him poured into this moment. Her cries became grunts, and then harsh, guttural growls, as he took her past the edge of passion. Her hands flew over him, his shoulders, his head, his arms; she wanted to touch him everywhere at once.

Casavir sank into her, pouring his very soul into her with every stroke of his hips, losing himself in her depths. The pain of his captivity, their separation, all fused into an anguished need to sink into her, to come home in her. He felt on fire, and she was incandescent in his arms, the passion between them a force he could almost see. He covered her with powerful, hungry kisses. He dropped his mouth to her shoulder, his teeth grazing her flesh. Just then she moved against him, and his bite broke the skin. Raewyn never even noticed, but a single bead of blood welled up to be captured in his open-mouthed kiss.

The taste of her blood tore into his awareness like a lightning bolt. He froze, staring at her, the copper tang in his mouth awakening memories he had tried to banish. He saw the red marks of his kisses, the bruises forming on her thighs, her torn shift shredded on the rough stone behind her. His passion fled, replaced with horror as the nightmares of Blackrock flooded his mind. His lust remained, however, and he struggled to reign it in. He had to get away from her.

She saw the change come over his face, and stared uncomprehending.

"Casavir…" she began, trying to pull him back to her.

"Oh, gods." he croaked, setting her down and staggering backward. "Forgive me, my lady…I…"

He turned suddenly and drove his fist straight into the stone wall. Raewyn gasped as she heard a sickening crack, and knew at least a couple of bones had broken.

"Casavir! My gods! What…"

He scrambled to right his clothing, heedless of the blood streaming from his hand. He strode to the door, stopping to look at her once more, anguish, horror and fear in his eyes. Then he was gone.

Raewyn stood where she was a long moment, her shift half off, shaking with unfulfilled passion and sick with hurt confusion. She sank slowly to the floor, tears streaming silently down her cheeks.

It was almost evening when Raewyn finally emerged from her chambers. She had sat there on the floor where he had left her, numb, trying to force her mind to understand what had happened and failing. Finally she forced herself to rise, bathe and dress. As she did so, she regained her will, and grew determined to find out what in the Nine Hells had happened.

After looking first in Casavir's quarters and then the training yard without finding him, she sought Kana.

"He rode out a few hours ago, my lady. He was traveling light, so I assumed you had sent him on some errand."

Raewyn swore with a fluency that drew a raised eyebrow from Kana. She considered a moment, but decided for the present not to involve any more of her companions in what happened than she absolutely must. Nonetheless, she had only the barest idea of what was wrong with Casavir, and no idea at all of what he might do, and she needed to find him fast.

"Actually, no, I did not send him anywhere, and I need to find him. Did he say where he was going? Could you tell the direction he took?"

"He took the north road, I think. Shall I send a squadron after him?"

Raewyn paused before replying. "No. I will go myself, perhaps with Khelgar and Elanee, if they are available. Thank you, Kana."

"Yes, Captain." Kana kept her voice neutral, but this was most unusual. Typically, the Knight Captain and the paladin were almost eerily in sync. The men joked that it didn't matter which one you asked, for they would nearly always give the same answer. Most unusual indeed, and the Lieutenant was worried.

Raewyn rode out with Khelgar and Elanee within an hour, despite the approaching night. Khelgar was Casavir's closest friend and little unsettled the Ironfist's gruff steadiness. She knew she needed the most stalwart of her friends with her. She also needed Elanee's soothing calm, and she feared her healing gifts might be needed as well. She was also the most accomplished tracker currently in the Keep. Raewyn thought for a moment of Bishop, wishing she had his skills to hand, cursing his betrayal, and still, somehow, hoping he had at least found peace.

She shook her head, dismissing her maudlin thoughts, knowing she must stay focused if she was to find Casavir and help him with...whatever it was that had happened to him. She wanted to get at least as far as the North Road before stopping, so they could track Casavir from there at first light. She had not told her companions why they were tracking the paladin, or why he had left in such a fashion, but one look at her face told them it was serious, and they had not pressed her.

As they made a hasty camp at the branching of the North Road, however, Elanee finally asked.

"My lady, it might help if we knew what has happened."

"Aye lass, I can see ye're worried about the tin-can. What's wrong?" added Khelgar.

"I don't really know what happened. Casavir suddenly…." she stopped, swallowing hard around the lump in her throat. "I can only guess, but I know he suffered much in Blackrock, torments few could endure and remain sane. I think some of what he endured there haunts him still. Today he seems to have…encountered those ghosts." She did not have the strength to tell them just how it had happened; her own pain was still too raw.

"Damn, filthy Luskans!" Khelgar's anger warmed Raewyn a little, reminding her how much her companions also cared for the paladin. She was not alone in her quest to help him. "Not to worry, lass. We'll find him, and you'll get through to him. If anyone can, it's you."

"Indeed." added Elanee, gently. "I have heard of the torments Luskan can inflict. They seek to find the weakest places in a person's mind, and turn them against themselves. It is a cruel practice, but the bond between you is strong. I think it will make it possible for you to reach him. But you should rest. You will need your strength in the coming days."

"Thank you both. It helps to know that you, and all of my friends, care for him too."

Raewyn agreed to let Elanee and Khelgar take the watch, but she knew she would not sleep. She tried to rest, using some of the meditations Casavir had taught her, and in the end, she dozed for a little.

They found him two days later. He was camped, if it could be called that, in a remote wood. He had nothing with him and his injured hand was untended. He sat mutely in the shade of a tree in a posture Raewyn recognized as one he often used for meditation. He showed no sign of recognition when they rode up. Raewyn ran to kneel beside him.

"Casavir! What are you…Casavir?" but he did not answer her or look at her. She ran her hands over his face, his arms, looking for injuries and finding nothing aside from the damage to his hand, though he still didn't respond. She had rarely felt so helpless. "Elanee, what is wrong with him?"

The druidess knelt at his other side and looked into his eyes. She placed her hands on his temples and closed her eyes. After a moment, she frowned, then dropped her hands, turning her gaze to Raewyn. "I cannot say. He has retreated deep within his own mind. But I sense…activity, strife, as though he is at war with himself? This is beyond my skills, Raewyn, I am sorry. Perhaps Zhjaeve will be able to tell us more. We must get him back to the Keep quickly. I do not think he has eaten since he left, and his struggle is weakening him."

Elanee healed his injured hand before they set off, and then they brought him home as quickly as they dared. He moved from long periods of catatonia into short bursts of feverish semi-awareness. During these times, it was as if he was trapped in a nightmare from which they could not wake him. He muttered, cursed, and cried out incoherently, but occasional words and phrases came through. It was clear he was indeed reliving his torment in Blackrock.

When they neared the Keep, Raewyn asked Elanee to ride ahead and find Sand and Zhjaeve and ask them to make ready. When Raewyn and Khelgar rode up, supporting Casavir's still form between them, the courtyard went silent. Casavir was well-loved, and all the inhabitants of Crossroad Keep feared for the paladin.

Zhjaeve spent hours that night, seeking the cause of Casavir's condition, but in the end, she was able to learn little more than Elanee had in the grove where they had found him.

"Know that he is indeed locked in a struggle within. It is a battle he fights within himself. He wars with his shadow self. He must choose to return to this life, but I sense that he feels he cannot. He seems to be struggling to keep something restrained within, and unless he can defeat it, I think he will not return. Know that unless he can find his way back to the world of the living before his body gives out, he will die."

"He has always struggled with his more...passionate, emotional side. But I thought… never mind that now. How can we help him, Zhjaeve?" Raewyn was near the breaking point, her frustration and helplessness taking a heavier toll than any battle she had ever faced.

"I do not know, _Kalach-cha_. Know that it brings me sorrow to say, but I do not know."

"I know Zhjaeve, thank you. Sand, can we keep his strength up, can we keep him… alive long enough for him to work out whatever it is he is battling?"

"I will do all I can, Raewyn." His own frustration was audible. "My potions can sustain him for a time, but…I do not know how long. The best thing you can do is remind him you are here. Give him something to come back for." The moon elf placed a hand on her shoulder in a rare gesture of sympathy. "But you must rest, too."

"Thank you Sand. I will sleep here a while; I don't want to leave him."

For the next day, she rarely left his side. She sat with him, talked to him, read to him, even sang to him. When he rose into his fever dreams, she held his hand and put cool cloths on his head and arms. She could see he was weakening fast, and she was beginning to despair.

"Casavir, please come back to me. We've been through so much, I can't lose you now. You are my heart and my soul, beloved. Come back to me, my _Katalmach_…."

It was near dusk on the second day since their return, and Raewyn was dozing fitfully in the chair beside his bed. She sensed a change, and roused to see that Casavir was awake.

"Casavir!" She sat beside him, taking his hand. "Casavir, can you hear me?"

He looked around, awareness growing slowly.

"My lady…" his voice was a rasping croak. She grabbed a cup and filled it with cool water, and helped him drink, helping him raise his head while she held it to his lips. He sank back down with a sigh.

"Raewyn…" he began again. "Listen to me. You must leave me, now."

"What are you talking about? I'm not going to…." he stopped her with a raised hand.

"No, my lady. You must. This is what I feared. The Luskan demons of Blackrock did their work well. I am not a fit man any longer. I am not whole. The man within me is broken, only the beast remains."

"Casavir, we'll get you through this, let me help you…"

"No." he said it firmly, and she drew back a little in spite of herself. "You can not repair this. And I cannot…" he let out a sharp breath that might have been a sob. "I cannot touch you. My heart is yours, and I long for you always, but I cannot... I cannot wed you, Raewyn. Please, go from me. What is in me cannot be held back…."

She moved to embrace him. "Casavir, beloved, please…."

He pulled away from her. "No!" He spoke louder, almost yelling. "Do not touch me! I can be no man to you. There is…within me…I am tainted. I cannot…. Just go, I beg you, leave me."

Raewyn's fear and frustration boiled over and anger flared in her eyes. "Dammit, Casavir, I am not going to simply walk away from you. We can fight this; I love you, and I…"

"NO!" He roared, sitting up, his eyes wild, as Raewyn stood, frozen in shock, tears streaming down her face. "Don't you understand? I can never touch you! I can never bed you, I will destroy you! Now go!" He was panting from the effort of his tirade. "Get out! GO!"

He turned from her then to face the wall, so she could not see his own tears, and because he could not bear to watch her face as she finally broke and turned to flee the room. He knew that soon, mercifully soon, he would sink back into the hellish battlefield of his mind. And this time, he prayed he would not emerge again.

Raewyn made it to her quarters at a near run before she collapsed on the floor, the anguish she had held back for so long tearing through her in great racking cries. Her heart ached, and every breath she drew felt like fire in her chest. Even all the long months when Casavir was missing had not filled her with such despair. If she lost him, she resolved to follow him into the dark; she could not live with this pain…. At last her cries slowed to choking sobs, and then she lay exhausted.

The moon was high when Raewyn came to herself, realizing that despite her anguish, she had slept. She didn't know what to do. She wandered the Keep, as she had when Casavir was missing. She passed through the great hall, where the banner of Neverwinter hung flanked by two smaller ones, one with the emblem of West Harbor, and the other bearing the hammer and scales of Tyr. She stopped, looking at the banners. A moment later, she turned and went to the Temple. Perhaps Ivarr would have some insight into how to save Tyr's son.

She entered the temple quietly, and slipped toward the front where she knelt before the image of the god of justice. The quiet of the sanctuary calmed her a little, and the scent of incense reminded her of the day she had brought Casavir back to Tyr's temple in Neverwinter. She prayed Tyr's help to bring him home yet again.

"My lady, may I join you?"

She turned to see Ivarr beside her. "Yes, please. I don't know what to do for him." She thought she had cried all she could, but tears threatened again. "How can I help him to fight himself? He sent me away Ivarr. He won't let me help him…." She told him everything he had said to her, both about his imprisonment, everything she had heard in his fever rantings, and his words earlier.

"Casavir told me some of what he endured in Blackrock, though I know he did not tell me everything. From that, and from what you have said, I think the torments he faced undermined his very sense of himself. For all that they were not real, the illusions he suffered may have forced him into acts or feelings that conflicted with his very humanity." He seemed lost in thought for a moment, then continued. "That he has sent you away for fear of hurting you suggests that under the influence of those illusions, he was made to do just that. I know his devotion to you is the very center of his being, and he will sacrifice himself to protect you, even from himself. Unless he can find a way to resolve whatever he experienced under illusion that resulted in his hurting you, I do not think he will return to us."

Raewyn nodded, and Ivarr left her to her thoughts. She sat silent for a long time before returning to the Keep. She walked the halls, turning over what Ivarr had said. She understood, at last, the nature of the nightmare which haunted Casavir, and why it had come upon him in the heat of their rekindled passion. Somehow, by illusion, potion, or wraith-spell, they had forced him to take her violently. No, she chided herself, there was no use shrinking from it. In the illusions he suffered, he had raped her, likely fatally, and likely many times, replaying her death at his hands in the most violent way possible over and over.

He had undergone many other such nightmares; he had told her of some of them. But this one had the power to destroy him; it was designed to destroy him. She did not know how they had forced such a vision on him, though she knew he had spoken of succubi, wraiths, and mind-flayers, all of whom could plant images in a person's mind, and that together with the potions, almost anything could be planted into the mind, as real and solid as the stone walls surrounding her. If it was something the person already feared, it would grow quickly, feeding on insecurity and doubt. She knew Casavir had only just begun to come to terms with the passion they shared, mistrusting his less rational side, and she was certain that was what haunted him. When they had come together so passionately, he had perceived their hunger for each other as violence, and his tormented nightmare had returned to him.

At length she found herself on the battlements. As the sun sent the first rays of red from behind her, a desperate plan had begun to form.

Raewyn went to Kana first.

"You want what, my lady?" Astonishment filled her chief lieutenant's reply.

"I want the small room to the north of the ritual room in the basement emptied, and fitted with a cot. There is an old one in the stables that will suit, I think."

"But it's filthy! Surely a bed from one of the upper rooms…"

"No. It needs to be filthy. I also want you to find the oldest, most rancid straw you can, and cover the floor with it."

Kana looked at her like she had lost her mind right along with Casavir, but agreed. Raewyn's next stop was Sand, whose reaction was much like Kana's.

"I'm not sure I understand you. You want potions for what?"

"I want a basic stimulant potion, and one of the sort you prepare for the old men in the village. The ones their wives ask for…. And perhaps a couple of strong healing potions, just in case."

Sand regarded her with suspicion. "What are you playing at?"

"Casavir is trapped, battling himself in a nightmare scenario in which he cannot win. Since I cannot enter his nightmare in order to help him fight it, I will bring him and that scenario out into the world, where I can help him. But first I need to recreate the world of his nightmare."

Sand looked at her a long time. "It's a daring plan, possibly fatal, for you and for him. But…it could work. Give me three hours." Sand was impressed in spite of himself. He had watched Raewyn as she grew from a slip of a girl, green out of West Harbor into a formidable fighter, fearless leader, first rate tactician, and a good friend. Her plan was creative and bold, even for her, and it spoke volumes about her devotion to the paladin. He hoped it would work, for he had become rather fond of both of them.

Her last stop was to see Zhjaeve and Elanee. Both had been working hard to try and reach Casavir, and bring him out of his inner struggle to no avail. She explained to them what she intended. Both sat silent, considering her plan.

Elanee spoke first. "You realize that the stimulant might prove fatal if he fights it hard enough…."

"Yes. That is why I am recreating the setting in which I believe he finds himself. I am hoping it will be real enough that he will not realize he is no longer within the nightmare."

"Know this is a dangerous path you walk," intoned the githzerai next. "The rage against which he fights is powerful. You may not be able to control that which you seek to conjure. You may be forced to injure him, or he may kill you."

"Yes, I know there is that risk. But I think if the situation he is trapped in can play out to a better resolution and he can break the cycle, he will no longer need to fight against himself. He is weak, so I think I can at least slow him if the need arises. He will not…" she choked back tears. "he will not survive if I do nothing, and if he dies, I do not know... The risk is acceptable."

The seer and the druidess looked at each other, realizing that as slim a chance as it might be, it might well be only chance either the paladin or the Knight Captain had.

"Let's get him ready, then."

Raewyn's companions carried Casavir to the dingy cell she had recreated in the basement of the keep. It wasn't really that similar, but she shuddered as she entered, the memory of Blackrock vivid before her. The door had no lock, so she could leave if she had to, though she did not intend to do so until Casavir was restored. Failing that, she was not certain she intended to leave at all.

After getting him settled on the cot, she had her companions light torches outside the door; Raewyn needed some light, but did not want to risk fire in this small space. She asked that her companions go upstairs and give her privacy, and instructed Kana and Bevil to stand watch at the bottom of the stairs, which she hoped was far enough to be out of earshot. Knowing Casavir's preference for privacy, she did not want his torments known to any more people than necessary.

"Whatever you hear, do not interfere. I mean it, no matter what you may hear." They looked at her uncertainly. "This is vital, Kana, Bevil. Promise me you will not interfere."

"Very well my lady." Both nodded their acquiescence. Bevil looked ill, and she would have sworn Kana had a tear in her eye.

"Wish me luck."

She returned to the cell and closed the heavy wooden door behind her. Casavir was lost again in his mind, unresponsive. She debated giving him the stimulant now, but decided to wait until he had roused into his dreaming state. Meanwhile, she stripped and lay down beside him on the cot, tears stinging her eyes as she savored the feel of his body beside hers, knowing it might be the last time she would rest with him in her arms. She held him close, whispering to him of her love and devotion, and against all reason, she drifted to sleep beside him, her last sensation the familiar smell of his skin and the comforting heat of his body.

She woke when she felt him stir beside her. He was beginning to rise into semi-awareness. It was time. Murmuring a prayer to Tyr, she poured the contents of the stimulant potion Sand had made for her into his mouth. The other she held off on, hoping it would not be needed. She felt a surge of guilt at her intention to essentially violate him in this way, but she knew it might be the only way to save him.

He began to stir, the stimulant bringing him through his dream state to wakefulness. It was vital that he still think himself dreaming, however. She prayed that what he had told her of what he saw in his nightmares and with the fragments she'd gleaned from his raving together with her own memories of Blackrock and the demonesses she'd encountered in their travels would be enough to pull off the deception.

"Wake up, paladin!" she spat harshly, shaking him roughly. "Not done with you yet!"

He groaned, and threw his arm over his face. "No, no more. Why do you torment me?"

Conjuring in her mind the image of Blooden, the succubus they'd encountered in Ammon Jerro's Haven, she raked her nails down his cheek. "Because your anguish is delicious. All that bottled-up lust just waiting to come out and play, all layered with guilt and broken virtue." She begged his forgiveness in her mind, but keeping her voice mocking and derisive. "I know you want to play, don't you? Some holy warrior you are, always so ready to fuck a demon!" She licked his cheek, letting her teeth graze his cheekbone. "What would your noble lady say if she saw you now?"

Casavir struggled weakly. "No, please…." Raewyn's heart twisted, but she refused to let up. "Maybe we can let her have a turn when I'm done with you? Show her all that nasty, bloody lust you have?" She reached down and pulled open his breeches, her nails raking the insides of his thighs. She saw he was fully awake, but so far he still thought himself in his nightmare.

"Leave me alone, you hell-bitch!" he growled, anger rising as the stimulant took hold. She feared he would snap out of the illusion, so she uncapped the other potion and forced it down his throat before he came awake enough to stop her. The potion would induce intense physical lust, but also cloud his mind. Soon he would be unable to distinguish reality from his dream.

She knew she was playing a delicate game. She needed him to be unable to keep himself from giving in to his lust, but she needed to manipulate his nightmare towards the one episode that threatened his sanity. And she needed to time it correctly for him to believe he was still within his nightmares. If she tipped her hand too soon, he would realize he was awake, and she feared he would retreat so far into his mind she would never be able to reach him again. Her hope was that since she was in control of the situation, unlike his nightmares, she could keep him from hurting her, and resolve his fear of that particular outcome. No matter how uncontrolled his lust, she trusted his innate love for her, and absent the manipulation of the succubi's deceptions, she was sure she could channel his rage and violence into passion.

The potion began to affect him, and he writhed on the cot, groaning and sweating, his unwilling arousal evident. She slapped him hard, then ran her hands roughly down his chest. He shivered at both actions. Gathering her courage, she tore open his shirt and ripped away what was left of his breeches. He moaned, fighting the rising lust the potion was creating. So far, he still believed he was dreaming.

She grabbed his erection roughly and he cried out, his hips bucking off the cot. She slapped him again, first his face, then his swollen manhood, and he cried out, bucking again. Quickly, before she lost her nerve, she straddled him.

"Come on, paladin! Look at you, so raging hard for a demon like me, you're about to burst! You're an animal, nothing but a beast. You reek of the abyss! Demon-loving blackguard; has your god left you yet?"

She clawed and bit him, stimulating him roughly while she tormented him relentlessly. "Pretending to be all holy and righteous, when all you want is a good rough fuck. Blood and sex, killing and fucking, that's all you know, all you are. You're even more of an animal than Bishop, aren't you?"

He growled then, struggling to push her off of him, but in his dazed and weakened state she pinned him easily, never letting up.

"You never let yourself go, did you? Never let that hot little bitch have it like she wanted it, and she wanted it bad and hard…. Shall we have Bishop give it to her while we watch? Have that animal use her good and hard and leave her on the ground like the whore she is? Wouldn't that be fun to watch?"

She plunged herself down onto his cock and he roared in lust and rage, grabbing her hips and slamming into her, his lips drawn back in a snarl of hatred. She hadn't intended to enjoy what she was doing, knowing he might hate her for it later, but even as her heart ached for his torment, she couldn't help it. She had been without his touch for so long, and when he had left her almost a week ago, she had been shaking with need for him. Even knowing he was acting out of rage and shame and despair, she could not stop her body from responding to his. She screamed out her climax in seconds, and found herself building again. As another climax crested over her, she pulled away from him, refusing him any satisfaction.

Trembling, she fought to control her voice. "Maybe we should give that little swamp rat of yours some of that animal inside you….give pretty little Raewyn the fuck of her life. Would she like to see you like this, you rutting monster?" He flung himself off the the cot, an inarticulate roar echoing from deep in his chest. She ducked behind him, and continued tormenting him.

"Will she like it, paladin? Will she like it when you fuck her like the animal you are, the smell of a demoness still all over you? Think she'll beg you to stop? Not that it would matter. You wouldn't stop. You'll just take her anyway, won't you? She'll cry and beg and you'll just keep fucking her. You're too far gone in rut. You won't even stop when she bleeds, when she screams. Oh, those screams will be sweet, when you fuck her to death, and you will, won't you?"

He fell to his knees, and a howl of anguish rose from him that chilled Raewyn's blood, and her heart splintered in her chest. But she was almost there, she had to keep on. As cruel as it was, he had to believe the worst was about to happen, so she could make sure it didn't. She stayed behind him and reached around to grasp his length, pumping his shaft roughly, letting her nails scrape his sensitive skin, making sure he would be unable to stop himself. He groaned and shuddered, still trying to fight the potion-induced lust. She kept her hand moving hard on his length, and dropped her mouth to his shoulder. She bit down hard at the same moment she raked her nails across his stomach with her other hand. The pain and stimulation together pushed him over the edge, out of control. He lurched to his feet with another roar.

Now. He must think he was trapped in the illusion, and be unable to fight it. He must believe he was about to attack her.

She grabbed the cloak she had hidden behind the cot and threw it around her, covering her nakedness. When he turned she stood before him as herself. She met his eyes and smiled. "Casavir, my love, come to me."

"Raewyn? No…." He moved toward her, unable to stop himself. "No…please, my lady, no…" She saw the horror in his eyes at what he expected to come. She was certain that in his nightmare, she would fight him, beg him to stop. But she was in charge of the 'dream' now, and she would welcome his passion, welcome him.

"It's alright, Casavir. I want you so much. I want you to make love to me. I want your passion, Casavir."

Confusion registered in his eyes for a heartbeat, then mistrust. He still expected things to happen as they had under the Luskan illusions.

She remembered his eyes when he looked at her torn shift, so she slowly, sensuously let the cloak slip from her shoulders, the loving smile never leaving her face. As the fabric pooled on the floor, she raised her arms to him.

He reached her and pulled her to him hard. She put her arms around his neck and pressed herself to him eagerly. She found she didn't have to pretend her eagerness any more than she had pretended her arousal a few moments before. His mouth fell to hers in a bruising kiss, and she returned it in full measure. Her nails dug into his scalp and she pulled him even closer.

He picked her up like she weighed nothing despite his weakened condition, and they fell to the cot together. She remained wrapped around him, her hands roving over his back and shoulders. He broke their fiery kiss and she kissed his cheeks, his brows, his eyes.

"I love you, Casavir. Yes, touch me, beloved."

His hands roamed her body impatiently, and she knew he would not hold back for long. Right now, she didn't want him to. She crooked her leg behind his waist and pulled his hips down to her.

She met his eyes, putting every bit of the love she carried for him into her gaze. "Love me, my _Katalmach_. Come to me, take me, lose yourself in me."

"Raewyn…."

"Shhh. It's alright Casavir, you won't hurt me. I want you so much… please."

A shudder passed through him and he lost the fight against the need that roared in his veins. He plunged into her body with a groan. Raewyn cried out beneath him, and her hips rose to meet his thrusts. He pumped into her hard, their flesh meeting with a slap at each downstroke, her legs flexing to bring him back to her with every upstroke. She fought to hold his gaze, pouring her love and acceptance into him.

"Yes, Casavir, gods, oh yes. I love you." She whispered endearments to him between her cries, desperate to keep him from his darkness, to show him he wasn't hurting her. She felt another crest rising in her, and she kissed him again, letting him feel her panting breath on his lips. She held tightly to him as the wave built higher and higher, burying her face in the crook of his neck as another climax took her.

Casavir seemed to be returning to himself, the glassy look in his eyes slowly thawing to reveal something else, something more human. His fear was receding. He was still in the grip of the potion as well as the desperation his torment had wrought in him, and though his motion slowed, he never stopped. But he dropped to one elbow, moving his hand to cradle her head as he kissed her more gently.

"My lady…Raewyn, my beloved, my heart..." His voice sounded like him again, and tears blurred Raewyn's vision. Seeing a flash of panic cross his face, she gave him a brilliant smile, and was relieved to see the fear vanish.

"Come home to me, my love. Come with me, Casavir." She rained kisses on his neck, his ears, nipping and licking gently. Her hands traced the lines of his chest, her thumbs tweaking his nipples as she urged him on. Suddenly inspired, she managed to catch him off guard and turn them both so he was on his back. She settled herself over him, her face close to his, smiling down into his beautiful blue eyes as she lowered herself onto him.

He gasped, and his hands went to her hips. The moved together, eyes locked, bodies sliding together. Raewyn reached down and grasped one of his hands in hers, twining their fingers. Casavir's breathing came in sharp heavy gasps, each one punctuated by a moan as his own finish approached.

She rode him harder, faster, and his hips bucked off the cot to meet her. She felt his body tense, and knew his release was coming. He threw his head back and she dropped to kiss his throat, tasting the salt of his sweat as his orgasm began. His entire body went tense and he arched off the cot, her name coming in a roar from his throat. She felt the burst of his heat as he lost himself deep within her.

He relaxed a moment later, gasping, and she met his eyes, now clear at last. "Raewyn, beloved."

"I am here, Casavir. All is well. I love you."

He shifted to settle her by his side, holding her close as exhaustion overtook him. She too was happy to let sleep claim her, safe in her paladin's arms where she belonged.

They slept long into the next day. It was Casavir who awoke first, and looked around him in bewilderment. He realized Raewyn was sleeping beside him, both of them naked, and he sat up with a start. Beside him Raewyn woke, and smiled up at him.

"Good morning, my paladin. Are you well?"

He blushed crimson from neck to hairline. "I…I think so, my lady, but….how…where are we? I was dreaming, but… Why…."

She fought a giggle as relief washed over her. She sat up beside him, sliding her arm around his back. "It's a long story. What's the last thing you remember?"

"I was in your quarters, and we…." He flushed again. "Then I was…I remembered something, a nightmare. I left, I think. I don't really know what else. I was back in the same nightmare, back in Blackrock, but it wasn't the same. I hurt you…I didn't want to, but I couldn't make it..make myself stop..but then, I didn't."

"The nightmare is over, Casavir. You did not hurt me, and I know you never will."

"How did you…you were there, or I was here…." He sat silent for a moment, trying to unravel the muddle of memory, nightmare and illusion. She leaned against his back, both arms wrapped around him.

He spoke again, haltingly. "I didn't want to leave you, but I could not live with the risk of hurting you. I was ready to die. I sent you away."

"Yes."

"You did not go. You did not leave me."

"No, and I never will, my beloved."

"The nightmare; it is gone. Truly gone?"

"Yes."

He bowed his head and was silent a long while.

"Casavir?"

"Yes, my lady?"

"Make love to me."

"Yes my lady." It was the first time she'd seen him smile without sadness, without doubt, since before they had faced the King of Shadows.

They made love slowly and sweetly, rediscovering each other as if for the first time, each touch, each kiss a new promise to each other. They slept, then loved again, fiercely and passionately. Casavir, it seemed, was no longer troubled by the depth of his passion for her, for the last of the shadows between them had been banished at last. They emerged hours later, having decided that they needed to find a pleasanter location to continue their celebration of each other.

Casavir was asked many times over the years, by those who had been there, what exactly had happened in that small chamber in the basement of Crossroad Keep, and how Raewyn had managed to snatch him back from the shadow that claimed him. He always gave the same answer.

"My lady is no sorcerer, but she has many magics, and miracles are not beyond her."

**-FINIS-**

* * *

Thank you, thank you, thank you for joining me on this journey, and sharing my exploration of these beloved characters!


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